


walking on the cliff's edge

by leonhart_17



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:18:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonhart_17/pseuds/leonhart_17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Separated by circumstances, Clarke and Lexa work from opposite sides of two wars to find peace for their people.</p>
<p>My take on a not shitty 3b.  Diverges from canon during 3x07</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke Griffin hardly made it through the Commander – through Lexa’s door before the pressure she could feel rising through her chest, a bubble pressing out against her ribs, burst out of her mouth as a sob she struggled to contain.

Her hand was still on the doorknob when it turned, twisted from within. Lexa, wrapped in a hastily donned robe that barely covered her, halted her rush abruptly when she nearly bowled into Clarke. Her face, wide eyed and emotional, pulled and twisted in an impressive gymnastics of decision – which face to present – before falling into her default – detached _Heda_. “Oh -”

Her time in Polis had taught Clarke nothing so much as how to read every twitch and line of Lexa’s face and she followed the evolution of the instant without missing a nuance. “Lexa -” Her words failed as quickly as the Commander’s had, leaving only one possibility.

The kiss was hard, teeth and tongues, hands gripping clothing and hair as they each strained to be as close as they could get. Lexa pulled at Clarke’s lower lip with her teeth, worrying the soft flesh until it drew a moan from her. When Lexa drew a breath to swallow the sound, needing to take in absolutely everything she could get of Clarke, Clarke’s tongue pushed between her teeth to greet her.

Lexa’s back collided lightly against her bedroom door and if it had fallen open behind them they would have stumbled back to the sheets and furs of her bed – still warm with their presence. The latch held however, and Clarke dragged herself away. “I have to go. Octavia -”

Lexa kissed her again, stopping her words and very nearly derailing her brain. It was a slow kiss, a farewell rather than a desperate plea. “May we meet again,” she breathed against her mouth. Both were panting hard and Lexa couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.

“We will,” Clarke whispered back. Her fingers dug through thick dark hair, holding her close for as long as she could. Trying to move finally, she reached blindly for the strap of her bag. Her entire world was wrapped in the green of Lexa’s eyes, so close in front of her. She blinked, lips dragging against each other as she mustered a smile. She’d seen the Earth spin below her for her whole life, green and blue, brown and white. Now the Earth turned beneath her feet and the green was all that mattered.

“Do not make promises -” Lexa stepped back as much as she could, slipping from between Clarke and the door.

Clarke caught her wrist, thumb stroking instinctively across smooth skin. Lexa’s pulse jumped beneath her touch. “Lexa, if there is any way for us to meet again, we will.” She shook her head emphatically when Lexa’s eyes caught hers. “I just got you. I won’t lose you again.” Lexa’s smile was small, peaceful. Clarke’s left hand touched her cheek, finger slipping across lips swollen from her kiss. “I love you, Lexa.” Green eyes widened, shocked breath making her mouth fall open. “I won’t -”

“Say no more, Clarke,” breathed Lexa, leaning into her touch. Her eyes closed briefly when Clarke’s thumb circled softly on her cheekbone. “Another word and I will not let you go,” she warned, warm playfulness buried beneath feeling too deep and immense to be expressed in what minutes they had left.

Clarke steeled them both with another smile, swaying on her feet. A final brief kiss, Lexa’s fingers tangling in her hair, strengthened her to step away. It took everything she had left to let her fingers, stretched to maintain contact as long as possible, fall free of Lexa’s.

“Ride quickly,” Lexa said seriously as Clarke shouldered her bag. “I’ll have riders alert me when you’re safely across the line.”

Nodding, Clarke forced her throat to contract, holding down the emotion that wanted to break free and drag her under. “I’ll find a way to fix this. Whenever I do, I’ll send word.”

Lexa’s chin jerked up and down in a stiff acknowledgment. She was trembling as she had when Clarke had kissed her an hour ago. Willpower forced her limbs to still, her jaw to tighten. “Keep yourself safe,” she requested, quiet voice choked.

“You too,” echoed Clarke. The hand on her bag squeezed hard until she felt the wrinkles in the heavy canvas ache against her palm.

She’d only just begun to turn when Lexa spoke, stopping her in her tracks with the first sound of her name. “Clarke, I -” She stopped, mouth moving without sound. “I -” They were there, the words, inside her lip, aching to break free, but she couldn’t give them voice.

Clarke smiled at her over her shoulder. Her heart felt warm and full inside her chest. She felt sure the beat was echoed between Lexa’s ribs. “I know, Lexa.”

She did know. Lexa didn’t need to say a word. Her every action, every breath since her arrival in the capitol, had displayed precisely how she felt about Clarke.

Lexa’s fingers curled in the slightest hint of a wave before she closed her fist, face closing in to the mask of _Heda_ as Clarke turned to walk away.

Outside, Octavia Blake was holding the reins of both of their horses, speaking lowly and quietly with Indra. The Grounder general was hunched, in clear pain, shaking her head in denial of whatever the younger woman was saying. They both fell silent when Clarke appeared through the tower’s doorway. They watched with almost matching stern glares as Clarke busied herself tying her bag to her horse’s saddle. “You didn’t really give us a lot of time,” Octavia noted, chiding her as Clarke lifted her leg to pull herself into her saddle.

“Let’s go then,” Clarke shot back, narrowing her own glare at the girl on the ground. She pulled her horse’s head away from the tower. The ache between her shoulders had nothing to do with the thought of Lexa watching her go. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“I’ll contact you,” promised Octavia again, ignoring it when Indra scoffed and shook her head. “I will. I’ll find a way to end this and get our people back.” Her mentor only stroked her hand along the horse’s neck without looking at her. “Indra -”

“You must go,” she cut her off, though not unkindly. “The blockade begins at sunrise.” Octavia slung herself into her saddle and took the reins. She didn’t move though, staring down at the top of her head, hoping for more with no result. The horse had only just started to move when Indra spoke again. “Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim.”

Octavia didn’t look back, twitching her hands to prompt her mount to move more quickly. They drew eyes on their way out of the city, muttering and tension swirling in their wake. The gate shut behind their horses with a screech and loud clang. Octavia caught Clarke finally look back at the sound. Blue eyes were pained, her breath coming out as a shuddering, wet sigh. Her inhale was nearly a sob. When she saw Octavia’s eyes on her, brows furrowing in sudden unwanted sympathy, she nudged her horse into motion again. “Clarke -”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” declared Clarke, her old role as leader seeping into her tone unconsciously.

“Tough shit,” Octavia denied her, leading her horse to walk beside its companion. “How can you trust her?! She tried to have me killed! She left us all to die, Clarke!”

“How many times did Lincoln try to kill you when he was infected?” Clarke shot back heatedly. It wasn’t a fair comparison and they both knew it. Clarke barreled forward regardless, “Lexa did what she had to do. We have all made the same choices since we got on the ground.” She spoke more quickly, beyond tired of having her every decision questioned. Why couldn’t it be enough that she loved Lexa, that she trusted her? Every step that they’d made toward peace, toward understanding each other, there had been _someone_ – Nyah, Bellamy, Titus – in their way.

No longer. Not when she was fleeing Polis to save people who’d kill her before they’d welcome her back. Not when all she wanted was to build lasting peace with the woman she’d come to understand and care for more than any other.

“I’m done talking about this,” declared Clarke, breathless. Unconsciously her feet tightened on the horse’s sides, prompting him to move more quickly toward the tree line. They had ground to cover. Talking would benefit nothing.

 

* * *

 

 Lexa forced herself to watch the horses until the people on their backs were nothing more than spots of color in the dimming light. She breathed deep, held it until her chest ached with something other than longing. Clarke was gone. She was still Heda. Still had a duty to keep her people safe. If Skaikru would not be brought to reason it was on her shoulders to prevent any further loss of life from the people who still desired the protection of her coalition.

The distant horses were nearly indistinguishable from the shadows of the forest and Lexa turned away from the window at last. Her room felt empty, dim and hollow. After weeks of Clarke’s presence in the tower being alone was stifling. Without conscious decision from her brain, her feet carried her through her door and toward Clarke’s room.

It was sentimental, and stupid, and it wasn’t as if Clarke had died – she simply wasn’t in the city anymore – but any remnant of her that she could find, Lexa wanted it.

She’d barely turned the corner before the sounds of a scuffle reached her ears, piercing the haze of her distraction in an instant. That the fight was happening in Clarke’s room made her move that much more quickly toward it. Lexa went through the door with her body low, alert and tense. Titus was struggling against a young man she’d never seen before, the two rolling and kicking across Clarke’s bed. The stranger’s hands were bound, what looked like a gag hanging around his neck. The fighting men’s battle reached the far edge of the wide mattress and they careened to the floor. Someone’s flailing leg clipped the stand of the easel Lexa had given Clarke, the canvas resting there landing in the path of rolling male destruction.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Lexa barked, her voice _Heda’s_. Titus went still, only his shoulders heaving with the effort of drawing breath. The other man was panting, nose and mouth bleeding, bound hands held before him. In the refuse from the fight Lexa spotted Clarke’s drawing of her, finished but now streaked with a muddy boot print. Lexa’s jaw tightened and she blinked hard.

The younger man, eyes jumping between the two Grounders, caught the expression on the Commander’s face. “He’s trying to kill Clarke!” he shouted, desperation nearly dripping from him. “He has a gun!”

Lexa recoiled even as Titus lifted the gun. “Shof op!” he barked, squeezing the trigger.

His intended target threw himself forward in the same second, his shoulder colliding hard with Titus’ abdomen and sending both men tumbling back to the floor. The bullet grazed the inside of its mark's calf, making him howl in pain.

“He was going to kill her and tell you that I did it,” grunted the boy, taking several blows to the ribs for his trouble.

“Titus, unhand him!” Lexa commanded, raising her voice to be heard over the renewed fighting. “Now!” When her directive wasn’t obeyed she swung a kick into the fray, the solid thump making her Flamekeeper bow and lose his breath. He fell back, the gun still clenched in his fist. Lexa’s next kick sent it flying. Titus collapsed back on his other hand, wide eyed. “Explain yourself,” Lexa ordered, her gaze steel.

“This boy is a thief and a liar, Heda -”

“Do not lie to me, Titus. I will make you regret it.”

Titus flared back beneath the order, sitting up but not rising to his feet. The threat of further violence was in every line of Lexa’s lean body. A threat he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to unleash. “You’ve compromised everything we’ve been working for, Heda. Ever since you met the sky girl - I simply wish you to focus, remember what is important.”

Lexa stepped forward, leaving the boy a half step behind her for the moment. “Titus, if you harm her -”

“She’s gone, is she not?” asked Titus, drawing his legs up without standing. “Gone from our lives. And our people will be the better for it, Heda.” His tone was pleading for understanding. “Everything you’ve done – for her sake – and war is at our door yet again. The tide must be turned.”

“Man does not dictate the ways of nature,” Lexa snapped back. Behind her, the boy was worrying the ropes binding his wrists with his teeth, grunting as he worked. “We must simply do what we must to survive.”

“Your legacy was to be peace between the clans!” Titus reminded her, harsh and heated.

“Clarke only ever tried to coordinate that peace. Yet you hated her.”

“Because she made you weak! You haven’t been able to see it clearly.” He drew up to his knees, shuffling toward her with his hands up in almost supplication. “Love is weakness.”

Whatever Clarke made her feel, weakness wasn’t part of it. She would make herself capable of anything for Clarke. Duty to her people had to take priority but her love was not a weakness. Rather, it made her strong. It had taken her time to see the truth of it but that did not diminish that it was true. Loving Clarke made her powerful.

“You’re wrong,” she denied him in a soft voice. Titus’ expression fell. Lexa’s tightened. “You do not deny it then? That you intended to murder Clarke of the Sky People?”

His eyes were flint, mouth a thin line. “I do not.”

Behind her, the sky boy edged toward the gun that was just barely visible beneath the bed. Lexa stepped back with one boot and neatly pinned his hand to the floor. “I’ll get to you,” she told him, glancing down briefly at his grimace of pain. “Do not tempt my attention before your time.”

He nodded, dirty hair hanging in his face. “Whatever you say, lady.” Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “Your boy has been torturing me, you know? As long as we’re making a list. For days now, asking me about some bullshit chips with some symbol on them.” He shrugged, thin shoulders moving jerkily. He breathed shallowly, free hand covering his bruised ribs.

Lexa needed only a glance to know it was true. Her boot shifted, freeing his hand. “Your name?”

In the midst of snatching his arm to his chest, he answered, “Murphy. John Murphy.” He risked a look up at her. “Is Clarke okay?”

Her chest felt tight but Lexa nodded briskly. “She lives. She has left the city. Your people in Arkadia are under blockade.” If it was discovered that any member of Skaikru remained within Polis it would be another blow to her people’s trust in her leadership. She couldn’t simply kill him though. Not without more information.

“Heda -” Titus tried.

“Shof op.” She needed a plan, a way to move froward without her entire coalition crashing down around her. “What are these chips? Tell me about them.”

Murphy considered, looking between Titus’ murderous expression and Lexa’s calm determination. “They’re little. Maybe about this big.” He made a circle with his fingers. “Light blue and they have a symbol stamped on them.” Titus jerked but didn’t make a sound. “An infinity. But it’s broken on one side.” Lexa blinked, not speaking, and her hand reached up and back to rub the tattoo on the back of her neck. “I don’t know what they do, exactly, but it has something to do with the City of Light. Jaha – you know him, right?” She inclined her head in recognition and he continued, “He’s been peddling them in Arkadia. It’s some kind of cult or drug or something. Anyone who takes them loses their damn minds. Saying they feel no pain and shit.”

Lexa frowned. “The chip, where is it?”

John threw his hand up at the kneeling Titus. “Ask him! He took it from me days ago!”

“That’s precisely who I am asking,” Lexa informed him, staring down at her adviser with harsh eyes. He glared back, clearly weighing his options. “Answer your Heda or face the consequences.”

Titus ground the words out between his teeth but he obeyed, “It is in my quarters. Lexa -”

“I require no more words from you, Titus.” She pulled her hands behind her back, considering. On the floor, John groaned as he inspected the burning graze on his leg. “You require a healer.”

“No one can know that he’s -”

“He would not be here if you had not brought him here!” Lexa barked. “Now it falls to me to fix your mistake. The only input I require from you is the chip and silence.” He rankled visibly but didn’t argue. “Can you get to the chair?” she asked Murphy, turning to look at him again.

His eyes widened at the same time that she recognized the motion behind her. There was no way to know which of them was Titus’ target this time but John’s shoulders hit Lexa at her thighs, knocking them both the hardwood and clearing the space that the bullet passed through. Hands free now, he was able to fight back when Titus lunged at him. Dazed by the hard hit, Lexa pushed herself clear with her legs, scrambling back on her hands and feet.

The gun went off before she could do anything more. Both men were on the ground and it took a pair of heartbeats to determine which of them was still breathing. Gasping and groaning, Murphy strained to drag himself out from under Titus’ still form.

Realization sunk into both of them at the same moment and he cursed. “You saw him though! Dude was unhinged! He was trying to kill us!” Titus’ intention was beyond questioning now but Lexa only got to her feet. “I don’t even know how – it was him or me -”

“Shof op,” she said quietly, trying to reconcile everything in her head. Titus’ own actions had lead to his death, that much was clear. The demise of the Flamekeeper wasn’t something she could conceal. That it had occurred at the hands of a sky person and with a gun that never should have been inside the walls of her city made things more complicated. “We tell the truth,” Lexa decided. “You were captured and brought here without my knowledge. Titus tortured you for information you don’t have and you managed to escape.” Her eyes found his over the body of her adviser. “What information you do have you would be better off giving to me now. I assure you -”

“Hey, whoa! I’m not hiding anything!” he yelped before her threat was finished. “I just want to get the hell out of here alive. I’ve got a girl waiting on me out in the woods. You let me go and you’ll never see me again. I swear!”

Lexa’s jaw tightened. _Maybe someday you and I will owe nothing further to our people_. She was _Heda_. “You will leave the city. Now. Your people -”

“Not mine. They banished me,” John scoffed.

“Nevertheless, the city of the thirteenth clan is under a blockade and you must be across the line before sunrise or there will be nothing I can do to spare you,” Lexa told him. “Clarke and Octavia of Skaikru ride for the line as we speak.” She considered him quietly for a moment. “Catch up, tell them what transpired here, and you’ll be free to go your own way with the gratitude of the Commander of the twelve tribes,” she offered.

Murphy blinked, nodding. Both hands pushed himself up, using the bed to get to his feet. His injured leg buckled right away and his his solid leg held him unsteadily. “Can’t beat that deal,” he said with a hoarse laugh. He was hanging onto the edge of the bed with both hands. “Not trying to push it, but any chance we can at least wrap my leg before I leave?”

Lexa jerked her head at the bed, inviting him wordlessly to sit. In the hastiness of Clarke’s departure her room was still outfitted with everything Lexa had ordered her staff to provide. Next to the door was a pitcher of fresh water. It was no longer warm but was clean. The closet provided clean cloth. His pants were already shredded, allowing easy access to the wound. Lexa worked quickly and without speaking.

When she stood and stepped back he got back on his feet, holding the injured limb without putting his weight on it. “Thank you. For, you know, everything.”

“I do you few favors, John Murphy,” Lexa reminded him. “You ride for your life. I cannot help you past the gate. Clarke only _may_ be able to help you beyond there.”

Understanding, he nodded. “I’ll take my chances.” He looked down at the gun on the floor but made no move to recover it. “You got a way to get me out of here?”

Lexa’s shoulders squared. She was no taller than any other woman, lithe and lean, not all that imposing physically, but the force of her presence, the sense of her command, it was immaterial but tangible. “I am the Commander. I will not be made to sneak like a thief through my own citadel,” she told him archly. Two quick steps toward the door revealed that her guards were already waiting on the other side, hands on the hilts of their swords, the grips of their spears. “Escort John Murphy to a horse outside the city,” she ordered. “Our Flamekeeper has attempted treason and paid the price for his actions. Send someone to deal with his body.”

Her directions were followed without question, neither the man nor woman outside her door even appearing shocked by the scene before them. “Sha, Heda.”

Only waiting until the body was being lifted and removed, Lexa set off toward the Flamekeeper’s quarters. Whatever belief had so turned Titus’ mind had cost him his life. But members of Skaikru were involved as well, though she was certain that Titus had not aligned himself with Thelonious Jaha. The only connection was whatever the chips were. She was Heda, with a duty to protect her people whatever the threat. So she would discover the meaning of the chips and what purpose they might have for her people.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Tori, who needs a pick-me-up. hope this helps!

The night air was cold, Clarke’s breath forming invisible clouds in the darkness. The fire had burned low, banked to avoid being seen by either group they were avoiding. Arkadia wouldn’t take them back but neither would the Grounders. Octavia slept on the other side of the embers, curled into a ball inside her armor. Murphy had been there when she’d fallen asleep but appeared to have disappeared into the night. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. He tended to stay in between rocks and various hard places on his own without borrowing tight spots from Clarke. Frankly, she was surprised that he’d delivered on his deal with Lexa at all and gone out of his way to relay the message. Once he had a horse he could have vanished onto his own efforts at survival.

Learning about Titus’ plan had made Clarke’s blood boil but Murphy had promised her a half dozen times that Lexa was perfectly fine. The connection between Jaha’s chips and the Grounders was troubling, but without more information there was little she could do but make theories. They needed a way back inside Arkadia to get that information, to find out the status of the people they loved.

It had been a tense two days since their hurried ride from Polis. Every hour Lincoln remained stewing in Pike’s jail Octavia had grown more short-tempered, determined to get everyone out and less willing to listen to Clarke’s pleas that they needed a plan.

For better or worse, they had the beginnings of a plan. The rest would have to develop as things proceeded. The no man’s land where they’d been forced to exist could keep them safe enough for now but neutrality would not do their friends inside the wall any good.

Through the trees Clarke saw the faintest hint of dawn rising and she pushed herself to her feet. “Octavia -” The younger girl was up before she could even move to shake her awake. “Were you awake all night?”

Octavia was already stomping out the embers, strapping her sword into place on her back. “Let’s do this.”

“You know we’re not going to be able to get Lincoln out this time, right?” Clarke reminded her cautiously even as she fell into step behind her. Octavia walked through the brush without sound, was nearly invisible in the early dawn. Her time on her own after Mount Weather had forced Clarke’s own survival skills to improve but Octavia moved between the trees as if she had always been there, the Earth a part of her despite being born in space.

She found the panel she’d used to get them in the last time as the rising sun turned everything gray – not light but not full dark either. They’d debated about which of them should make the trip inside the camp, whether someone should wait outside, but it had been decided that if either one was caught there was nothing for the other to do from outside the walls that they couldn’t accomplish from inside. Plus, Clarke just really wanted to see her mother.

Octavia had radioed Marcus Kane so when they climbed out of the corresponding loose panel on the other side of the passage he was waiting with steady hands to help them out of the wall. “Lincoln?” she checked at the same time as Clarke’s, “Where’s my mom?”

Kane squeezed Octavia’s shoulder reassuringly. “They’re both fine. They’re together.” His eyes flicked away from Clarke’s, unable to keep her gaze. “Abby will be here soon. She has been keeping the Grounders comfortable.” His jaw was tight beneath his beard, shoulders moving uncomfortably.

Octavia’s mouth pulled in displeasure. “We need to get them out of here,” she said insistently, beginning to pace.

“We’re going to figure that out,” sighed Clarke. It was on the mental list of objectives – get the Grounders outside the camp, find a way to undermine and remove Pike as Chancellor, restore the alliance with the twelve clans. Details beyond those main goals would have to be worked out. All in all, they were being forced to rely on too many last minute ideas. It made Clarke anxious. It was nothing new of their life of the ground, really. But for the first time her unwanted leadership of her people had been challenged. If she didn’t answer the challenge appropriately her people would be lost. There would be nothing she could do for them.

Any thoughts about personal repercussions she kept firmly pushed to the back of her mind.

Abby came in looking over her shoulder and carrying a heavy bag. She dropped it in favor of hugging Clarke to her hard. “You’re here. You’re okay?” Leaning back to see for herself, both hands caught her daughter’s face. “Are there no showers in Polis?”

Flushing, Clarke pulled her head back. “This is not really the time, Mom.”

Smirking, she nodded. “I’m just -” She reached forward to wipe dirt from her cheekbone. Clarke twitched but didn’t retreat again.

“How’s Lincoln?” asked Octavia impatiently. Given how she felt about her brother Bellamy presently, touching family reunions weren’t something she had tremendous tolerance for.

Sobering, Abby settled for slinging her arm around Clarke’s shoulders, holding her daughter against her side. “He’s doing as well as he can. He asks about you every day.” She swallowed, giving the girl in front of her a nod. “He’s supporting his people.”

“We have to get all of them out of here,” Octavia said again. “How are we going to do that?”

“We’ll come up with something,” promised Abby. “For now, at least they’re healthy.” She nudged the heavy bag she’d dropped with one foot. “And toward that end -”

“What if they weren’t?” Clarke asked, interrupting whatever her mother had started to say. The idea grew and developed rapidly. Unable to stand still and work it out, she separated from Abby to pace the small space they had. Kane watched with his arms crossed, Abby with her own dawning understanding. “If the Grounders were all sick, or started getting sick -”

“Pike would have them killed,” Kane cut in to remind her.

“Maybe that’s what we want,” mused Clarke. Octavia choked, moving forward helplessly, and Clarke continued swiftly. “The whole thing is going to be fake!” Her eyes found her mother’s considering expression. “You could do that, right? Give them each something that would make them seem sick or look sick?” Abby nodded, her own arms crossing her chest, weight rocking between her heel and toes.

Kane spoke up again, “But what then?”

“Can you still get to the guns? Are any of the guards against Pike at all?” Clarke was speaking more quickly as the necessary details rushed through her head. “Could we fake an execution? If Pike can’t be convinced to just expel the Grounders from Arkadia?”

All eyes turned to Kane, waiting for his answer. “I think Miller could probably get a gun, grind down the firing pin, but there’s no way Bellamy will let him be on the firing squad. I think, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to need a force on the outside to stop the guards before the shooting starts.”

Octavia looked ready to do it on her own, reaching one hand back instinctively for the handle of her sword. Clarke caught her elbow before she could pull it. “We can’t count on help from the clans, not after the massacre.” Octavia’s jaw went tight, her eyes hard. “But if you got a few of the Grounders out first – they’d help, right, Octavia?”

“Of course they would.”

Clarke looked at Abby again. “A few could die overnight, right? You confirm they’re dead, that it could be contagious, and get their bodies dumped outside the walls tomorrow,” she suggested, releasing a deep breath when her mother nodded, glancing at Kane.

“Lincoln -” Octavia said firmly.

Abby nodded again. “Of course. We need to be careful about this, though. Move slowly.” Octavia started to protest, jerking her arm against Clarke’s grip. “I will get Lincoln out first, I promise. But we have to be smart about this or we won’t get anyone out at all.”

Silence fell, the basics of a plan laid out in front of them. Clarke and Octavia looked at each other, holding each others gaze until Octavia nodded. “Good,” Abby sighed. “Now, this is for you both.” She nudged the bag forward again. It was full, overstuffed even. “It’s some blankets and food. It’s still cold out at night.”

Clarke knelt to riffle through the pouches and pockets. There were also medical supplies, a few stray shirts, little balls of socks that her father had always hated. The smile that crossed her face was instinctive and beyond her control. She thought maybe no one had seen it until her mother’s hand raked through her hair from above. “Thanks for all this,” Clarke said, hating the croak in her voice. She didn’t lift her eyes.

“The camp’s under a blockade. Pike’s not going to miss all those supplies?” Octavia asked, hands on cocked hips.

Kane shrugged. “We’re being starved out. If Pike can’t support his people he’ll lose their support,” he said knowingly. “As soon as things get worse he’s the first one they’ll lose faith in.”

Clarke looked up at that, locking eyes on Abby. “You can’t -”

“They already don’t trust us,” noted the physician, trying to play it off like less of a big deal than it was. “You’re about to have company out there in the woods. You’ll need those things. By the time it’s missed here they won’t even think to look at me or Marcus.” Her hand cupped Clarke’s jaw, smiling down at her. “You two take care of each other.” Clarke got to her feet again, pulling her mother into a hug. Abby breathed deep. Her eyes closed when Clarke nuzzled into her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this all out.” Turning her face, she kissed dirty blonde hair.

Nodding, Clarke took another moment in her embrace before she pulled herself back. Her mother hadn’t always been a source of comfort for her since they’d landed on the ground, but she was loath to leave her behind. “Take care of yourself,” she whispered, taking another step back.

Octavia pulled their secret exit open again, Kane helping her hold it while Clarke pulled the bag over her shoulder. “Look for Lincoln tomorrow. East side of the wall. As close to the woods as we can,” Abby told them. She rubbed Clarke’s shoulder as she ducked to climb into the wall.

“We’ll be in touch,” Clarke promised, following Octavia into the dark with a final look back over her shoulder. Metal screeched and they were in the black. Outside the wall the sun was rising over miles of green. The trees were too tall and they were in a valley but Clarke caught herself looking in the direction of Polis, imagining that she could see the tower in the distance.

 

* * *

 

The chip was smooth between Lexa’s fingertips, cool to the touch. Which was odd given that she’d been palming it for more than half an hour. It had been easy enough to find in Titus’ room but two days had given her no further clue what its purpose was. It rolled easily between her knuckles as she read, an unconscious motion to keep her hand busy while the other traced lines on the page.

“Anything, Heda?” Indra couldn’t stop moving in spite of her injuries. Her arm was strapped across her chest, leg stiff. She was healing though, and anxious to act.

“The answer remains the same,” sighed Lexa, leaning back from her desk to watch her General pace the length of her library. “We have only the word of John Murphy of the Sky People as to what this thing may be.”

“It bears the Commander’s mark.”

“And yet I know nothing -” Lexa snapped, tired and frustrated. Titus had his own ideas about whatever this was or what it did but he’d died before passing the information along. Sorting through his papers had revealed nothing, leaving her lacking a way forward. “Apologies, Indra. I am -” One hand raked through her hair.

“You are the Commander of the twelve clans,” Indra stated firmly, stopping her pacing to stare at her leader.

Lexa sighed again, helpless against the small smile that twitched her lips. “Yes, I am.”

“The Commander’s spirit chose you. Whatever it is that bears your mark, you can understand it.” The faith in her voice was utter. Her belief in her _Heda_ entire. Indra’s feet lined up, facing her in a sudden stiff, military posture. She bowed, biting down any pain it put on her arm and stiff leg. “I will leave you to your work.”

Left staring after her, Lexa was torn between laughter and confusion. Her people’s belief in her was so great. Even in the midst of her efforts to change something fundamental about their culture. Holding the chip up before her eyes, she curled her legs before her, balancing herself capably on the bench she was seated on.

She possessed the spirit of every Commander her people had ever had. It had chosen her when she was just a girl. She had proven herself worthy in war a hundred times before. Lexa inhaled deeply, pushing it back out through her mouth. She desired that the next Commander wouldn’t need to distinguish themselves through bloodshed. She fought so that her next incarnation would not have to. She wanted to be worthy of more than war. Her predecessors could help her, she knew it. If she could only let them. Adjusting her posture minutely, Lexa let herself relax, mind focused on her goal – empty of all else.

The blue token caught the light from the window, making prisms of color dance across her eyes. Breathing deep, she held it, letting the colors haze her vision. She couldn’t see her hand, only the light making rainbows in her vision. The broken infinity filled everything, cycling through shades and hues until the blue of the chip overwhelmed all. It surrounded her but she wasn’t afraid. She could drown in blue and would not fight it.

A flash of the exact shade of blue in Clarke’s eyes – lit by the afternoon sun through her window, more like the sky she’d come from than Lexa had ever seen them – flashed across her vision, catching her breath and drawing her back from whatever state she’d nearly entered.

Balance abandoned her, the chip dropping to the wooden floor as she caught herself on the edge of the bench with both hands. Breathless, Lexa cursed, “Jok!” She’d been close to something, before she hadn’t been. Before the thought of Clarke had pulled her back from her goal.

She’d learned about other commanders who’d entered the City of Light at will. Old stories. Myths and legends. She’d never had a need to try it on her own. Death was as soon as she wished to enter the afterlife. The Commander was said to be the only person capable of making the return from the realm of death.

Frustrated with herself for the distraction, Lexa rose from the bench to pace the room. Clarke was fine. She had heard from the blockade that three riders had crossed the line with minutes to spare. No sign of them had been seen since but Clarke had survived on her own in the wild, while being hunted, for three months. She was fine. She had to be.

Crouching, Lexa retrieved the chip where it had rolled beneath her desk. Murphy had said that Jaha was giving the people chips as a way of ending pain. Nothing physically changed for them except for their own recognition of and response to pain. Trying to think it through made her head ache. She dropped the chip to the tabletop. No one in Polis was equipped to study the chip. Not in the way Skaikru could.

Her feet were moving before she’d consciously reached a decision, climbing the stairs at a brisk pace. It was easy enough to find what she needed, a quick stop before arriving at her destination. The aviary was on its own floor, not quite at the top but near enough. The birds greeted her entrance with flapping wings that settled again quickly when they recognized her.

Lexa moved to her favorite falcon immediately, fingers stroking gently across his chest. “Heya, Galahad,” she murmured. “You ready to fly?” The bird’s head ducked to press against her wrist and Lexa lowered her arm obligingly, letting him step onto her bracer. “That’s my boy.” He stood still while she tied her message to his leg, dropping his head to catch a scent when she pulled Clarke’s hood from her belt. “Nami? Find her, Galahad,” she urged him, tone soft.

He launched without hesitation, disappearing into the setting sun. Lexa watched him go with the light bathing her. If there was information that the Sky People could give her that helped keep her people safe then she would get it. If she also received confirmation that Clarke was safe, so be it.

A breeze picked up the scent of cooking fires far below her, lifting it for her appreciation. Her people, finally so close to peace after decades of war and death. With the rebellious Skaikru contained, the most imminent threat to that peace existed as something she couldn’t fight. Something she didn’t fully understand, even. The realization sent a shiver down her back.

Lexa squared her shoulders deliberately, her head up to look across her land. She didn’t understand what the chip could mean for her people – _yet_. But she would. There was no doubt in her of that. Her gaze skimmed the tops of the trees, settling finally on the distant valley where she knew Arkadia lay. It wasn’t dark enough yet to be able to spot fires, and they were too far away, but she imagined that she could detect flickers of life nevertheless.

The Commander turned away from the view with a sigh as the last sliver of sunlight faded below the horizon. If only her other distractions would be as easily controlled as her doubt. Back stiff, she marched from the aviary. Clarke was gone. Doing her duty for her people. Lexa had her own duty to perform. No matter how often she reminded herself of it though, she couldn’t get back to that place of empty focus that she’d nearly reached in the library. Instead, she fell into an uneasy sleep in a bed that felt too big by leagues – empty and cool.


	3. Chapter 3

Octavia heard the voices coming before Clarke did, the two of them hiding just inside the trees outside of the camp’s clearing. They’d been in position to help Lincoln since dawn, prepared to wait out the day, but Abby must have worked quicker than they’d been able to hope because the mist was still burning away from the Earth and they were about to have company.

Clarke’s attention was caught on movement in the tree above her, though. “Octavia, do you see that bird?”

“I really don’t care about some bird, Clarke,” said the younger girl shortly, her sword already out and ready in her hand. As the voices grew closer she bounced on her feet, ready for action. “Clarke!” she hissed when she noticed that her companion was still staring up into the branches.

They both crouched in a rush when two men came around the corner of the fence, each dragging a body by the legs. Spotting Lincoln, Octavia lunged forward. Catching sight of Miller at the same moment, Clarke pulled her back again. “It’s okay. Look,” she whispered. She had to use both arms to hold her back. “Miller’s got him. It’s okay.”

Miller did a good job of avoiding looking for them at the treeline, not drawing attention to them hiding barely fifty yards away, and got his fellow guard headed back into camp with only a few words. He lingered only long enough to wave them out.

Octavia was sprinting across the grass as soon as Clarke’s arms released their hold, her sword still clenched in her fist. She slid in next to Lincoln on her knees, dropping the blade in favor of grabbing him. She was too small, and he was too heavy, to really shake him. Instead she just pulled at his shirt. When he didn’t respond, just lay there, her head shot up to find Clarke. “What’s wrong with him?! What did she do?”

Dropping to her knees on his other side, Clarke checked his pulse beneath his jaw. “She was working fast, Octavia,” she said. Lincoln was pale, his skin color lighter than she’d ever seen it. It didn’t look right. Licking her thumb, she swiped it across his face, holding it up when it came away streaked with chalk. She laughed. “They painted him.”

Unamused, Octavia scowled. “Okay, but why isn’t he awake?”

His pulse was there, steady and strong, his breathing regular and deep. It wouldn’t have fooled anyone so whatever her mother had given him must be wearing off. Considering, Clark leaned back on her heels. The sharp snap of her hand against Lincoln’s cheek was audible, as was Octavia’s growl of protest. It worked though, Lincoln shooting up between the two girls with his chest heaving.

“What-?” Octavia was in his lap, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders before he could finish the question. Smiling to herself, Clarke turned to administer the same wake-up call to the woman on her other side. “It worked?” Lincoln asked, holding Octavia hard to his chest, knees drawing up to keep her that much closer.

Clarke cast a glance toward the fence. The sun was rising, more people beginning to move through the camp. “Let’s get out of sight and we can talk.” Getting to her feet, she offered a hand up to the Grounder woman.

Her grip was firm, jaw tight. “Mochof, Wanheda.” She nodded when the title made Clarke blink.

“Pro -” Clarke faltered, not knowing how to address the warrior in front of her.

“Ilsa,” Lincoln provided, already on his feet alongside Octavia.

“Pro, Ilsa,” Clarke repeated, nodding back at their new companion. Ilsa, pale under the dirt and tattoos on her face, grinned at the recognition, short black hair hanging in her eyes. Without waiting, she scampered toward the woods, leaving the others to follow.

They went deeper into the forest with Lincoln in the lead. Octavia went right behind him, hanging onto his hand. Clarke brought up the rear, their bag of supplies on her back. Now that it wasn’t just herself and Octavia they would need a bigger space, farther from the Skaikru camp to avoid detection, especially once the rest of the Grounders were freed from Arkadia. But they couldn’t go too far, lest they break the line of the blockade and face death from the clans for it. Fortunately Lincoln seemed to have a place in mind as he led them through the trees without stopping to consult the girls.

Moving water was audible before it was visible, a quick moving river, shallow but wide, revealing itself after half an hour of walking. Clarke dropped the bag gratefully, kneeling on the edge to splash cold water across her face. “Go ahead and jump in,” Octavia suggested, laughing when Lincoln grinned. With his return had come her good mood. “Do us all a favor.” Clarke splashed her in retaliation. Octavia didn’t flinch, just slung her own handful back.

Lincoln took total victory, shoving both of them into the river one right after the other. He flexed both arms when the girls turned to gape up at him from the water. Gasping and spluttering, Clarke lifted a brow at Octavia, taking the younger girl’s nod as their signal to attack.

The playful scuffle was brief and one-sided, in spite of the unevenly matched teams. Ilsa watched from upriver with a grin on her face, already dripping with fresh water. Free air and a successful plan carried out had given them all room to breathe easier.

Drenched, Clarke was dripping when she regained the shore, stripping out of her boots and jacket. Movement in the trees caught her eyes. “Octavia!” The call made the couple in the river freeze, Octavia’s hand reaching for her sword. “Look!”

The direction Clarke pointed was too high from the ground to be pursuit from Arkadia and Octavia squinted against sunlight just now reaching the tops of the trees. “I don’t – are you talking about birds again?”

“I think that’s the same bird,” said Clarke, moving forward gingerly on bare feet.

Lincoln, head cocked, waded out of the river to look for himself. When he spotted what Clarke had seen he laughed. Cupping both hands around his mouth, he whistled a complicated tune. “Put your arm up,” he told Clarke quickly. All of his gear but his clothing had been taken in Arkadia but Clarke was still wearing her bits of armor.

She did as he said but still barely got her arm in place to receive the falcon that swooped out of the trees. “What is this?” Clarke asked from between clenched teeth, too startled to move.

“He,” said Lincoln with a laugh, “is Galahad.” Two fingers stroked the bird’s feathers carefully. “Heda’s favorite messenger.”

Blue eyes blinked wide, her whole body relaxing spontaneously. _Heda_. Lexa. “Messenger? From Lexa? Where -?” Lincoln found the note tied to the bird’s leg but didn’t open it, just pressed it into Clarke’s free hand. It was brief, barely more than two lines, but it was Lexa’s handwriting. Clarke’s breath escaped all at once in a laugh of relief. It wasn’t the same as having the Commander at her side but it was _something_.

“What’s it say?” asked Octavia impatiently. Reunited with her own lover, she had no patience for Clarke’s pining sighs.

“She needs my mom to analyze one of those chips Jaha is passing out.” Clarke shrugged when Octavia’s face twisted.

“That doesn’t help us.”

“Well, no, but – if it helps her – and Jaha’s giving those to our friends inside Arkadia too,” Clarke noted.

Octavia nodded. “I hope he gives one to Bellamy,” she said bitterly.

“We don’t know what they do,” said Clarke, her tone harsher than the words sounded like they should be.

“Yeah, well Lexa could test it on him,” Octavia suggested with a wicked smirk.

Clarke smirked back at her but shook her head in denial. “I’m not saying he won’t get punished, but if these chips block out pain then maybe we don’t want him to get one.”

Octavia crossed her arms, hip cocked. “Fine. But are we going back in just to ask your mom about it?”

“Miller,” Clarke decided. They needed to minimize the risk of reaching out over the radio. If the wrong person heard them then Kane and her mother were dead. “Whenever he brings out the next group of sick Grounders tomorrow. He can ask my mom to help and tell us whatever she finds.” She looked at the falcon calmly waiting on her arm. “Do we have any ink? I can let Lexa know what the plan is.”

“I still don’t understand how you can trust her after what she did at the mountain,” groused Octavia even as she knelt to search through their supplies.

Clarke sighed, palming Lexa’s note and using her fingers to touch the silky soft feathers of the falcon. “She has a duty to her people. We aren’t going to argue about this again. I trust her.” Trying not to sound petulant, she added, “She called off the kill order on the two of you.” Octavia looked up at her without speaking. “She saved me from the Ice Nation. The whole time I was in the capitol she was only trying to help our people. She brought us into the coalition to protect us and we threw it back in her face. We killed three hundred of her warriors that she sent to keep us safe. They had every right to wipe us out for it. _She_ stopped it. Her people have tried to overthrow her. Because of us. We could have gotten her killed a dozen times and she has done nothing but try and keep all of us safe. So when I say I trust her, I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

She remembered Lexa kneeling before her, pledging fealty to her. That moment, that memory, was too private and precious to share. “Alright?” Clarke sighed heavily.

Octavia nodded, licking her lips. “Alright.” She hesitated. “There’s no ink,” she said reluctantly.

Ilsa, who’d been cleaning herself and only half following their conversation, jogged up with her hands cupped around a handful of dark berries. Lincoln smiled, pinching one up between his fingers. It left a thick purple residue on his fingertips. “Hod op.” He returned at a jog with a narrow stick about as long as one of his fingers. Isla held the berries while he crushed them and spread it across the broken tip of the stick. He offered it to Clarke with a smile, a quiet peace offering.

Octavia got to her feet again slowly. “Let me see this guy,” she said, voice gentle. Galahad stepped across willingly, ducking his head to butt against her hand affectionately.

“He likes you,” noted Lincoln softly.

Kneeling, Clarke braced the paper on her thigh to write her reply, writing on the back of Lexa’s message. It was easy enough to update the Commander on their plan to help with her request for more information about the chips, as well as tell her of their successful rescue of a pair of Grounder prisoners, but Clarke couldn’t just fold it up and send it away. So she remained crouching, listening to Lincoln and Ilsa speaking quiet Trigedasling to Octavia over her head. Her fingers moved without thought, tracing lines onto the paper. When she blinked and realized what she’d sketched a blush rose up her neck. The tattoo that marked Lexa’s arm was still rough and unfinished, her tools not really up to capturing the details, but the design was unmistakable. She’d traced her fingers across of every line of it in the flesh less than a week ago. Fumbling fingers dropped the stick and Clarke folded the note before Octavia could see her unofficial addition.

She shot to her feet, the sudden move making Galahad throw his wings out. He didn’t move when Clarke froze, Lincoln soothing him again with gentle touches. “Slowly,” he advised, keeping his voice quiet.

She reached out as he said, slipping the note back into the binding on the falcon’s leg. “He’ll just go back to Lexa? We don’t have to do anything?”

Lincoln nodded, stepping back with his hand on Clarke’s elbow. “Just hold your arm up over your head,” he coached Octavia. “He knows what to do from there.” They watched the wings beat once, twice, and then he was off, climbing swiftly up above the trees. Lincoln smiled, hand cupped over his eyes to shade them. “I used to watch them train those birds. They’re incredibly skilled.”

“Our village had one. Only after Heda brought us into the coalition,” Ilsa commented, already leaning over to scrub her stained hands in the river. “She was beautiful. Whenever I was done with my training for the day, I used to sneak into where she roosted.” She laughed to herself. “She used to eat from my fingers if I had any tidbits on me.”

Living in the citadel, Clarke had seen mostly the contentious council members, trying to undermine Lexa’s power. Clarke couldn’t help smiling, relieved to hear someone speak with affection about their Heda, her arms wrapping around herself. Her wet clothes were cold, making her gasp as they contacted her skin. The others laughed, not affected by the chill of the water. “Are we camping here? Because I wouldn’t mind a fire.”

“Close,” confirmed Lincoln with a nod. He cocked a brow at Octavia, playful smile pulling at his lips. “We should hunt before it gets dark.”

Taking his meaning, Octavia smirked. “We should.” Clarke rolled her eyes but couldn’t be mad at them for it.

“I’ll catch a swima,” declared Ilsa, walking back into the water without flinching and wading against the current.

Within a minute Clarke found herself alone at the river’s edge, sun beaming down and making light dance like fire across the churning surface of the water. She should start gathering wood, clear a space for the fire. Instead, she found the chunk of soap her mother had packed in with their supplies. She was stripping her shirt over her head even as she walked in, pants abandoned with her boots on the shore.

Once her body had adjusted to the chill Clarke found herself lingering in the water, basking in the feeling of cleanliness. The knowledge that the others could be back any time finally dragged her back to land, grateful to find some of her own clothing on top of their bag. Once she was dressed she set off into the trees to find wood.

Octavia and Lincoln returned with some small game just in time to eat the fish Ilsa had caught, cooked over the fire Clarke had made, the four of them settling in to strategize. They’d get the rest of the Grounders out as they could, though Lincoln suggested keeping a watch on the camp all the time, just in case any of the Grounders were released at odd hours and needed assistance.

Ilsa volunteered to take the first watch but had barely set off into the trees when a single gunshot broke the air, the crack echoing through previous quiet.

 

* * *

 

The afternoon sun beat down hard and heavy into the city, burning off the morning’s mist but leaving the air thick. It did nothing to slow anyone down. The townspeople simply put up their awnings and continued with their work. Likewise, the warriors trained without ceasing. Lexa’s only concession to the heat was to shrug out of her coat and cowl, baring her arms and freeing her movements. It did nothing to stop the slow roll of sweat between her shoulders, down her spine.

Aden was quick, the swipe of his spear requiring every second she could give herself to get clear. He changed his grip on the terminus of the swing, spinning the shaft in his hand and trying to crack her jaw with the base of his weapon. Lexa ducked it but it was near enough to rustle her hair. They both grinned, pleased by the close call. He shifted his weight, trying to reestablish his stance, but Lexa spun onto her front leg, whipping the rest of her body in a tight parabola. With her off balance he was unprepared for the kick she landed on the top of his shoulder, sending him spinning back into the dirt. She offered him a hand up. “You fought well.”

One hand rubbed his shoulder while Lexa helped herself to the glass jug of water resting in the shade. “Not well enough.”

She offered the bottle silently, both warriors catching their breath in the shadow of the leaves above them. A noise overhead drew her eyes. “Galahad.” The falcon’s name escaped her as a sigh. She wasn’t wearing her armor inside the city but lifted her arm nevertheless. The talons on his feet left lines across her skin but did not draw blood. “Good boy,” she praised him, stroking his neck carefully before she retrieved the note Clarke had sent. It was brief, simple assurances that she would get her mother to begin studying the chip as soon as she could get word inside the walls of Arkadia. The news that they’d begun retrieving Grounder prisoners was welcome as well.

That was enough, for now. Clarke was alive, was working to free her people. They would deal with this conflict and Clarke could return to Polis. If she so desired. There was no language in the note to determine how Clarke may feel either way – but, of course there wouldn’t be. The communication was short and focused because they were caught in the midst of yet another crisis. It was her own weakness that let her mind be overtaken and distracted by thoughts of Clarke. It would be better for them both that Clarke were entirely centered. As she should be herself.

Lexa let her eyes drink in every word one more time, thumb flattening the curled corner of the scrap so she could catch everything. The lines were small, roughly made, but unmistakable. The muscles of her shoulder where the ink resided clenched unconsciously. Clarke had traced those lines so gently it made her quiver just to think of it. Galahad took the tremor in her arm as his signal to return to his roost, taking off. His launch punctured her skin, thin trails of black blood dripping to the dirt.

“Heda, you’re bleeding,” noted Aden quietly.

Crumpling the note in her fist, Lexa rounded on him. “Do you think that means you can beat me this time?” she challenged. Across her face a grin grew. Whether it was the exhilaration of combat or the giddy feeling Clarke’s drawing had sparked deep in her gut forming the expression only Lexa could have answered but she was busily _not_ asking herself that question.

One hand rose to wave him forward. She was unarmed while Aden wielded his spear, and she bounced lightly on her feet as she waited for him to make his move. Swift jabs to each side were swatted aside with either hand. The third blow was just a hint _too_ slow and she caught his weapon in her hand, jerking back against his grip. He maintained his hold and she yielded it back to him without struggling. It was a mercy he’d get from no one else and he knew it as well as she did. Of course, if her efforts to unite the clans was successful than perhaps this training would end up being simply an exercise and not something he’d ever be asked to die for.

The low swipe nearly caught her but Lexa danced back on one foot only to lunge forward with the other before he could get his overextended spear recoiled. The body of the weapon was pinned neatly between her knees, a turn breaking it clean from his grasp. After that it was simply a matter of taking it in hand herself. Aden jumped back as swiftly as he could, body low and hands up to defend himself now that the tables had turned.

Lexa didn’t let him set himself, holding the spear across her shoulders and using the extended reach to sling quick blows at him from either side without having to do more than pivot. Too busy scrambling to avoid contact Aden lost awareness of his surroundings and his next step back was his last, pinned between his Commander’s whirling spear and a tree.

Every right was hers to punish him for the blunder but Lexa ended the bout with the blunt end of the weapon under his jaw. “You must never lose awareness of where you are,” she reminded him, not unkindly. He nodded, face flushed. “You will do better when next we fight.” Instead of withdrawing the spear she brought it up, making swift contact with his jawbone that made his teeth click.

Aden took the mild punishment without a sound, nodding as Lexa swung his weapon down and handed it back to him. Holding it stiff at his side, he bowed to her before backing away.

Lexa stayed to gather her coat and the water jug, watching him weave his way through the populated streets. Indra’s whistle drew her attention. Her General waved off the offer of the tilted bottle, back stiff. Her arm was still in its sling but something in her energy was different from the defeated, struggling woman she’d been the last few weeks. “You fight – I haven’t seen you move so swiftly since Roan.”

Smirking, Lexa shrugged back into her coat, heedless of the sweat still slicking her back and shoulders. “I have not had a need of it since then. Though I do appreciate your assessment that my skills as a warrior have not faded in the last half season.”

Indra shot her a look for the playful attitude but Lexa couldn’t bring herself to care. She felt light, in spite of having no further insight on the chip, nor a permanent solution for dealing with Skaikru’s rebellion.

“Do you wish to try me yourself?” asked Lexa, nudging her solid arm with an elbow. “I assure you, I would not go easy on you.”

Indra’s mouth twitched in spite of herself. “I would not need two good arms to dispatch you. Overconfidence is a grave fault.” She fell into step beside her as the Commander drained the last bit of water from her jug and set off to find something more filling to pair with her next drink.

“One Aden does not suffer from,” Lexa noted, pleased with his progress. “It’s been weeks since I’ve caught him off guard enough to escape a bout against him unscathed.”

“He’s doing very well,” acknowledged Indra.

Lexa nodded. “I’m sure you didn’t find me just to talk of the Natblidas. What did you wish to discuss?” Catching the scent of roasting boar, her stomach grumbled, feet turning naturally in the direction of the smell. “Would you join your Heda for a meal?”

“Sha, Heda,” Indra assented with a nod. She waited to speak again until they were seated at the table, watching the interactions instead. Lexa was generous with her people and they returned the generosity in kind. All she had to do was walk by and she had an invitation to join any family in the capitol for a meal. Lexa made sure every one of the families in her care was provisioned well enough to make the gesture to anyone, not only herself. The council and politics in the tower sometimes fought against her but here on the ground itself, there was no one who didn’t love their Heda.

Lexa passed a platter along the long table, sneaking one hand across in its shadow to tousle the hair of the small boy seated beside her. She smirked when he gaped at her, tongue peeking in the gap where two of his teeth were missing. “Bilaik esa strik gona.” (Someone’s a little warrior.)

His little face went red but his shoulders squared, small chest inflating with pride. “Sha, Heda.” A tiny fist pounded himself on the opposite shoulder in a respectful salute. Lexa nodded seriously, breaking the sobriety to wink and smile. He melted, digging into his food when Lexa did the same beside him.

Indra was more restrained, eating slowly with her weaker side. Lexa didn’t say anything to prompt her to speak, simply nodded across the table to show that she was listening. Indra chewed her bite slowly, in no rush. “I wanted to return to Trikru lands and join overseeing the blockade.” Her gaze fell witheringly on her injured arm. “I can do more for my people in Ton DC. With your permission, Heda.”

Lexa nodded, a roll in the palm of her hand. Her neighbor was watching closely so she didn’t look in his direction but tossed the bread up, whipping her knife from her belt and slashing her bread neatly across the middle before catching it in the other hand. His eyes went wide and she winked, tearing it in half and passing him a portion.

She couldn’t help herself. She felt _good_. Even the prospect of reaching the City of Light didn’t seem so far out of reach at the moment. There had been no action since the blockade had gone into effect. Three days without violence was a small start but it _was_ a start. They could build from there. So she nodded, spreading butter across her bread.

“I think that -”

“ **Heda!** ” The call from outside in the street had Lexa on her feet in a shot, Indra on her heels out the door. Spotting the Commander, the shouting man rushed toward the two women. “Heda, Skaikru -” Lexa’s back went stiff, shoulders squared. “They’ve fired on the blockade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some idiot (me) forgot to write down their trig translations when they were writing so the note there is my best guess at what it says. mostly they'll be decipherable by context clues.


	4. Chapter 4

The call on the radio had only given them minutes to react, scrambling through the dark forest as fast as their feet could carry them – Clarke, Octavia, Ilsa, and three of their rescued companions capable of it running to join Lincoln at his watch on the gate. The Grounders were being shoved out of camp in the moonlight, the genuinely sick dragged out on their gurneys. Clarke heard her mother shouting protests as they reached the clearing, her heart clenching in her chest as she ran. Two guards at the gate kept the doctor back from her patients, blocking her way with their guns.

There was no time for hesitation, not with three big guns lining up against the injured and ill Grounders. Arrows shot from the treeline gave them enough of a distraction to give their desperate sprint time. The nearest gun was swinging in their direction when the blade of Octavia’s sword caught it and knocked it aside, bullets tearing harmlessly into the soil. The other two guards were thrown to the ground an instant later, by Lincoln from one side, Nyko from the other.

Cries of dismay from inside were their only warning, everyone scrambling to retrieve the gurneys and get clear before more guns were brought to bear. Their archers in the forest fired as quickly as they were able, doing everything they could to cover their retreat.

Wild gunfire followed them, Arkers falling out into the gateway to pursue them. Thick darkness was their salvation, the guards unwilling to run into the woods in the middle of the night to recover people they were about to execute anyway. As far as they were concerned the Grounders could have their own back. Only one guard pursued them even to the edge of the light given out through the gate, spewing bullets as one last warning.

Octavia dropped with a loud cry of pain, Clarke forced to stop when the other half of the gurney they were carrying fell to the dirt. “What -?”

“It’s a – I’m hit – somewhere -” Breathless, her blood pounding, it was hard to pinpoint exactly where the pain was screaming from. “My leg.” Both hands found slick blood on her thigh. She pushed down, groaning.

Lincoln had stopped at the first sound from Octavia, conflicted. “Take this,” urged Clarke. “I’ve got her.”

He hesitated but grasped the gurney in the middle, holding the end of one in each hand, Nyko doing the same on the other end. They couldn’t move quickly but started toward the trees again, Lincoln watching over his shoulder as long as he was able. Ilsa stayed with them, standing over the girls on the ground.

“Don’t move, not yet,” Clarke said, hands moving as quickly as they could. She couldn’t see, fumbled for the source of the bleeding. A strangled yelp informed her of success. Just above the knee and outside, the hole was bleeding heavily but appeared to have an exit, making Clarke breathe deep in relief. “We need to tie this and get back to camp. I can’t see what I’m doing out here.”

Octavia spoke through gritted teeth, “Then do it and let’s get out of here.” If the Arkers thought they had collateral out here for the picking – and she and Clarke would be compelling bargaining chips, she knew that – they needed to not be here once the guards worked themselves up to venture into the darkness.

A strip torn off of her layers of shirts would have to do for now, Clarke’s fingers slipping as she tied the cloth tight around the younger girl’s thigh. “Osir gaf in gyon au,” (We need to go.) said Ilsa, watching the milling soldiers in the spilling light through the open gate. A single silhouette became part of the indistinguishable dark. Sooner before later, they would be found.

Clarke tightened the knot as much as she could, getting to her feet. Octavia’s blood was sticky and slick between their palms as Clarke gripped her hand. Ilsa took her other hand, the two getting their injured member standing between them. Their flight wasn’t fast but they reached the trees without incident. The brush slowed them down even further.

By the time they could hear the river beating fast and hard in the near distance Clarke was sure they weren’t being pursued. There was no slowing down though, not when Octavia was hanging ever more boneless and heavy against her hold. “Come on, Octavia. We’re almost there.”

Ilsa’s free hand held Octavia’s sword and she angled it at the first sound of pursuit coming toward them, boots crunching through the stone on the banks. It came from down the river though, not behind them.

“Clarke!” Lexa’s voice made Clarke’s knees buckle as if she were a puppet whose strings were cut. “Clarke, are you hurt?!” Seeing her fall, the Commander was there the next moment, her eyes anxious and dark. Overhead the moon hung full and close, gaps in the trees giving just enough light to see Lexa’s face. Painted but clean, hair braided and pulled back – she was beautiful.

“You’re – what are you doing here?” She felt dizzy and breathless. Blinking, her gaze dropped when Octavia groaned. The younger woman was limp, head hanging, breath coming raspy through her open mouth. “Help me with her!”

Lexa jumped to move Octavia’s legs, Clarke and Ilsa transitioning her shoulders and back as gently as possible to the ground. “Heda,” gasped Ilsa, recognizing their suddenly appeared helper.

“It came loose,” groaned Clarke, finding the tie hanging on Octavia’s knee. “She’s losing too much blood.”

“What do you need?” Lexa was calm, her voice tight.

Clarke looked across Octavia’s legs at her. “Are we safe here?” The Commander nodded briskly. “Then I need a fire.” She shot a look at Ilsa. “And Lincoln. Get him here.” Both girls followed her directions without arguing, leaving Clarke to apply pressure. “Come on, Octavia. You’re tougher than some stupid bullet,” she muttered.

Breathing easier from flat on her back, Octavia rocked her head against the grass. “You’re damn right,” she agreed hoarsely. “Did you say Lincoln? Where’s he -?” Her voice was thick, as if she were speaking around her own tongue.

“He’s coming. Ilsa went to get him,” Clarke promised her. “You just be still, okay?” Blood was still seeping slowly past her hand but Octavia’s breaths were steady and deep, her pulse slow. “You just hang in there.”

“Clarke.” Lexa appeared against beside her with a torch in hand. “Light.”

“I need heat as well,” Clarke said, moving her hand to pull Lexa’s torch close. The Commander shifted around Octavia’s legs to get the torch in a better position. Blood surged for a moment before seeping again slowly. “I need to stop the bleeding. I need to cauterize this wound.” Lexa clearly didn’t understand the word but nodded. “We need something metal, heated up to red hot. And some water, boiled if we can.”

Holding the torch steady, Lexa dug a shallow hole with her other hand. The base of the burning branch she wedged carefully into it, replacing the dirt to hold it in place. “I will do it.”

Clarke nodded, leaning in carefully to get a look at what she was working with. The sound of Lexa striking flint against steel behind her was a nearly musical accompaniment while she worked. Octiavia’s pants were tight, clinging even before they’d become stuck to her with blood. The knife on her belt was honed to a razor’s edge and sliced through the fabric easily. The extra space revealed pale white skin, the ragged edges of the bullet hole weeping blood. She spared a glance at Octavia’s face. Unconscious or asleep, she couldn’t tell. “This is going to hurt,” she said softly, giving her only a second of warning before she pulled the leg up. Octavia groaned, head tossing against the ground, but she didn’t move further than that.

The blood rolled down her thigh but didn’t increase. It made Clarke breathe easier. In the trees an owl hooted and the crackle of fire grew behind her, sending warmth spreading across her back. “How is she?” Lexa’s voice, quiet and soft and close behind her, made the heat disperse through her chest. Clarke closed her eyes briefly.

“I can’t tell yet.” Lexa moved back to coax the fire along and Clarke’s breath went shaky. Lacking further action until her supplies were ready, Clarke busied her hands retying the bind on Octavia’s leg. It made her buck, but less each time. She was fading. If she died – Clarke pushed the thought away brutally. Octavia would not die. She would not allow it.

She’d leaned over to check the exit wound when running footsteps became audible. Her head jerked up to find Lexa already between them and the sound, both swords drawn.

“Octavia!” It was Lincoln’s voice and Lexa let the tips of her blades drop only slightly.

“Miya!” (Here!) she called back. “She lives,” Lexa told him when he appeared, not putting her swords away until she was sure it was only him and Ilsa.

“Heda,” he gasped even as he passed her to drop to his knees beside Octavia. “Clarke?” Not sure herself where the Commander had come from, she could only shrug. “What – she’s been shot?”

“It went through without hitting any arteries or bone but she’s losing too much blood,” she told him quickly. “I need to close the wound. It’s going to hurt. A lot.”

Understanding, he nodded. “Do it.”

Lexa was beside Clarke in the next instant, gloved hand wrapped around a glowing knife. She passed it to Clarke carefully. “I need you all to hold her down. She can’t move,” Clarke instructed them, shifting down to get closer to the wound herself. Lexa took one shoulder, Lincoln the other. His hand held Octavia’s head carefully to the ground. Ilsa even straddled the good leg, her body pinning it down. “Hold her leg right there,” Clarke told her, both of Ilsa’s hands grasping just below Octavia’s knee where it was bent up to let Clarke get to both sides of her thigh.

“Okay, on three.” She nodded the count out and pressed the blade down. The sound of burning made her grimace but she held firm. “Keep her still,” she repeated, applying the blade to the exit wound as Octavia bucked and screamed. Lincoln’s head dropped to her chest, whispering words they couldn’t hear to her. Clarke leaned in again to check either side, watching closely in the firelight for fresh bleeding. “Okay.” They all fell back, relaxing their holds, except for Lincoln, who just pressed close and kept talking to her. For all that Octavia had gone limp again, her breath raspy and audible. He believed she could hear him and that was all that mattered to him.

Kneeling and slumped, Clarke relaxed back against her feet. Her head rose enough to find Lexa beside her. Dark eyes were already on her, scorching her with their heat and dancing with reflected firelight. “Can I speak to you?” she asked, fingers creeping down her own thigh. Lexa’s hand met hers before she reached her knee.

“Of course, Clarke.”

She stood up without releasing Lexa’s hand. Their fingers had entwined and she rubbed her thumb across the bones that adorned Lexa’s gloves. “Shout if she wakes up. Otherwise try and let her rest. We probably shouldn’t move her tonight.”

Lincoln made no move to acknowledge her but Ilsa nodded, taking up Octavia’s sword again and giving the couple on the ground space. “Sha, Wanheda.”

Arm stiff at her side, Clarke pulled Lexa with her to the trees. They would be able to speak without being heard or seen but still be near enough to intervene should anything happen at the riverside. They’d only just reached the cover of shadow when Lexa pulled back against her grip. “What are you doing here?” asked Clarke, allowing herself to be pulled to a stop. She gave Lexa no time to answer though, turning into the Commander’s hold and capturing her mouth in a kiss. “Why?” she gasped into the gap between the first kiss and the next, whimpering as Lexa’s tongue pushed between her teeth.

Lexa slipped strong arms around her tight, two steps pressing Clarke safely between herself and a tree. “I heard the gunshots,” she answered, changing the angle to move in for the next kiss. Lexa’s mind was spinning but she’d never felt more grounded. Everything else was chaos and uncertainty, but here, with Clarke in her arms, she knew exactly who she was and what she should do. “I had to be sure you were -” Lexa’s statement was swallowed in the next kiss.

Breathless, Clarke finally let her head drop to the Commander’s shoulder guard, her face pressed to the cold rubber and metal as she breathed hard. “You came to check on me?” She could nearly _feel_ the flush rising up Lexa’s neck without seeing it. Her fingers gripped at the straps holding her armor in place, the mail of her shirt, able to feel Lexa’s heart pounding beneath her hand.

“I -” Lexa faltered, leaning her cheek against Clarke’s hair without fully intending to. “Yes. Word reached me in Polis that shots were fired at the blockade. Indra and I rode for Arkadia at once. We only just arrived when -” She found her fingers in Clarke’s hair and squeezed. “Indra will not be happy when she discovers I left,” she noted lightly, smiling despite herself.

“You snuck out?” asked Clarke with a laugh, delighted.

Lexa’s hand rested against the back of Clarke’s neck, able to feel the tremors of her mirth in her muscles and bones. “I’m relieved to find you well. Though I’m sorry that Octavia of the Sky People was wounded. You’ve stopped the bleeding. Will she live?”

Clarke lifted her head only enough to turn her face back toward the river, her cheek still resting against Lexa’s chest. “If she doesn’t die tonight from the blood loss I think so.” Thin arms slipped around her again, one rising to cover her shoulder blade while the other curled around her hip. Lexa leaned back subtly, drawing Clarke to lean against her entirely, removing her from the tree. Clarke was sure she’d never felt safer in her life, even with blood dried cold and crusted on her hands. “I’m glad you came,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Lexa said nothing, making circles against the base of her lover’s skull with her thumb. When she’d heard the gunfire, sustained and repeated in the black of night, she had felt like there was nothing else she _could_ do but plunge into the darkness herself. “I can’t stay.”

Unmoving, Clarke only exhaled. “I know. I just – I’m glad to see you.” Inhaling again, she tried to hold the scent of Lexa’s hair in her lungs for as long as she was able. She leaned back slowly, Lexa’s reluctance to release her tangible. Clarke smiled at her when they were facing each other again. “We got the Grounders out of Arkadia. Some of them are still sick.”

Lexa’s brows furrowed. “Nyko?”

“As far as I know he’s okay. He was with us when we ran from the gate but after Octavia got shot we got separated. If we can get them to you -?”

“Trikru is not under the blockade,” Lexa finished her thought. “They’re free to rejoin their village.” Her mouth quirked at the corners. “Thank you for everything you did to get them out.”

Clarke shrugged, biting back a smile of her own. “Of course.” The moment stretched, pulling in either direction without snapping. Clarke was too busy tracing every feature of Lexa’s face with her eyes. She ached to do so with her fingers but held herself steady.

“I will send word through Galahad,” Lexa promised. About what Clarke had no idea but she only nodded.

“My mom is working on the chip Jaha has. If she finds anything I will let you know.”

Lexa mirrored her nod. Her hand rose to cup Clarke’s face, thumb circling her cheekbone. “Keep yourself safe, Clarke.”

Leaning into the touch, Clarke sighed. “You keep yourself safe, Lexa.” Her brows furrowed in displeasure. “Murphy told me about Titus.”

The Commander blinked but didn’t argue. Instead she stepped close, the other hand rising to hold her face on either side. Her lips brushed Clarke’s forehead, breath rustling her hair. “Titus had his own beliefs, some of which I share. One of those beliefs drove him to commit treason against his Heda. He paid for that with his life.”

She leaned back to catch Clarke’s eyes. Neither one blinked, held within spheres of earth and sky, green and blue. “Titus taught me that love is weakness.” Clarke frowned but didn’t speak, though her throat moved as she physically swallowed down the words she wanted to say. Lexa smiled, a small, flickering expression that made Clarke’s frustration dissipate in an instant when it bloomed across her mouth. “He was wrong. How I feel for you is strength. It – _you_ give me strength.”

Clarke blinked, her mouth falling open to catch a breath. “Lexa -”

“I gave you my trust long ago, Clarke Griffin of the Sky People. I swore to you my fealty, Ambassador of the thirteenth clan.” Clarke wasn’t sure she was still breathing. Lexa’s next breath was thick and entered her lungs in stages. “I give my love to you as well. To Clarke. My strength lies always with you, even when we are parted by distance and time. Those things will always be yours to do with what you wish.” Clarke’s eyes were teary but she didn’t blink. Lexa wet her lips, smiling still. She could feel the pulse in Clarke’s neck pounding beneath her palm, moved her hand in a long, slow slide down Clarke’s arm to take her hand. She couldn’t stay much longer. The sun would be rising to touch the trees imminently and Indra would not be happy to see her cross the blockade in daylight. “I wish that I could give you everything of me, but my duty as Heda, my bond to the safety and protection of my people will always be mine to bear.” Her head inclined slowly. Their heads were nearly touching and she drew their joined hands up between their chests. She bowed to kiss the tops of Clarke’s knuckles, the fingers in her grip tightening their own hold on her hand. “The rest of me belongs to you. If that’s enough.”

“It is,” Clarke promised quickly, the tears finally too heavy to avoid breaking free, sliding quickly down her cheeks. The hand on her face swiped them away.

“Are you pleased or -?” Lexa checked anxiously, ducking her face to try and read Clarke’s expression in the dark.

“I am,” she said without hesitation, her voice thick. Moving forward, she caught Lexa’s mouth in a deep kiss. In that moment there was no rush, only things to say without wasting the breath to speak them. Instead they pushed the truth into the others mouth, wound it into their hair with their fingers, drew it inside their chests on their breaths.

They came back to their senses airless and leaning into each other. “You need to go,” Clarke breathed before Lexa could express it. She could feel Lexa tensing to pull away so she didn’t make her say it. “I know.” Brushing one last kiss to Lexa’s jawline, she pulled back. Her feet felt like they’d only just returned to the ground after floating away. “It’s okay,” she promised.

Nodding, Lexa returned her hands to her belt and the grip of her sword. Her jaw tightened and flexed. “I – yes.”

Clarke smiled, stepping backward toward the river. She started to turn away. For all that Lexa was the Commander, the mighty _Heda_ , she felt sure that the other woman would not be the one to walk away this time.

“Clarke.” She froze, looking over her shoulder at Lexa in the shadows. Her mouth worked for a moment before the words formed. “I love you.”

Her smile grew, dissolving Lexa’s serious and stern look of earnest concentration into a sweet smile to answer it. “I know,” she promised, winking. Lexa’s shoulders relaxed, her whole demeanor going soft. “Now go before the sun rises. I need to get back to Octavia.”

Lexa moved only when Clarke did, turned her back only when her sky girl was safely beside the fire she’d made, fading into the shadows without a sound. Clarke caught a brief glimpse of her red sash as she looked back from the fireside. Octavia moaned and she turned back to her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke had to pull the Han Solo on her. *I love you/I know* Had to be done. I've always wanted to put that in a fic and this was the place.


	5. Chapter 5

Mediation had become dreams. That was the only explanation Lexa’s mind could reconcile. The place spread out around her was like nothing she’d ever seen outside of ancient pictures, faded and cracked. The world before the bombs.

There were no trees. She’d live her whole life under the green awning of the forest – the distant sky dappled through leaves and needles overhead, earth beneath her feet made soft by centuries of death decaying and becoming life again. This place had nothing but sky and glass, the ground made smooth and hard as stone beneath her boots. Everything went in straight lines and sharp angles. There were no curves. It was unnatural and made her skin prickle lightly. As if there were a breeze washing over bare flesh. There was no breeze, though.

There were no birds or bugs, no sounds that weren’t the echo of her own steps on the concrete. She’d only seen it cracked, dirty and broken, decaying in huge pieces in the forest – a remnant of the past that had no place in the present. Everything about this dream unsettled her. Lexa reached back for her sword, pulling it and rolling the grip across her palm. At least she was still dressed and armed familiarly, even if nothing else in her dream made sense.

With nothing else to do, Lexa started walking. Her sword she kept low, ready to obey the slightest flick of her wrist or turn of her shoulder. This wasn’t like any other dream of portent that her fellow commanders had ever sent her. Whatever the meaning of this place was, whatever it might mean for her people when she woke, she was blind to it. So she walked, ready for whatever appeared in these strange passages from the past.

Voices alerted her to presences beyond her own, a male and female in heated conversation. A name caught her attention. “Abby Griffin suspects something. She’s been studying the chips.” The man was speaking and Lexa crept forward without a sound, listening intently. “She’s a threat.”

“We don’t need her. She is irrelevant.” The woman spoke frankly, without hesitation. Lexa caught a glimpse of folded arms, Thelonius Jaha, and a black haired woman in a bright crimson dress, but didn’t let herself be spotted, drawing back behind the unnaturally smooth stone wall of the edifices lining the street.

“Fine, but I can’t just kill her. We need to be careful or we’ll lose the people we’re trying to bring into the City of Light, Alie,” Jaha reasoned. Lexa could hear him start to pace, her fist tightening on the grip of her sword. Clarke had asked her mother to study the chips at Lexa’s own request. She would not allow the physician to come to harm for aiding her. As soon as she woke she’d send word to Clarke right away.

_As soon as she woke._ Lexa felt the well worn handle of her sword in her hand, the subtle dips and grooves her fingers had made for themselves over years of training, a decade of war. It felt real, tangible. Her breath made her chest rise and fall as it did when she was awake. Her heart beat between her ribs in the usual way. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck, tickling her skin when it finally beaded and rolled down toward her collar. It made her want to scratch but she resisted the impulse. It all felt utterly normal.

It shouldn’t. Dreams, particularly dreams of caution from her past lives, had always had a sort of hazy quality to them. For certain her spirit had never made its warning quite so explicitly clear before. It made the space between her shoulder blades feel tight. Lexa’s back ached with the need to _move_ , to wake. She had to warn Clarke, to give Abby Griffin notice that she was in danger. Squeezing her eyes closed, her sight behind the lids went orange and then green in the brightness. When she opened them again she was still there, standing on the walkway with her back pressed to cold stone.

She wasn’t asleep. She was in the City of Light.

The notion lunged upon her, the obviousness of it too clear to argue with, even in her own mind. She’d done it. After days of getting close only to fail, she had finally succeeded.

If she was in the world beyond the world, then so were Jaha and the woman. The threat to Abby real and right in front of her. Whatever they were up to could end right here. Lexa’s jaw tightened. It still wasn’t certain that Jaha’s efforts to bring people into the City of Light was a threat to her people. Yet here she stood contemplating ending the unconfirmed danger right now with the blade in her hand.

Whether or not it affected her directly this man and his chips, whatever their purpose, were a threat to Clarke, to people Clarke cared for.

Lexa closed her eyes again, bringing her blade up before her face. She owed her people her leadership but she’d given Clarke her oath. If she could act and spare Clarke pain, that’s what she would do.

Her free hand went to the grip of her knife on her belt, loosening it in its scabbard. Breathing deep, she moved. The two around the corner clearly had no idea she’d been there, Jaha recoiling from her sudden appearance. The woman was nearer and only turned, not appearing shocked or dismayed to see a Grounder warrior charging her.

Lexa was the one caught off guard when her swinging sword caught on nothing, simply passed through the woman’s shoulder as if it wasn’t there. Off balance, she threw her weight forward, attempting to spin into a kick. Jaha stepped backward to avoid the blow, maddeningly calm, his arms folded behind his back.

“Commander, so pleased you could join us.” His voice was tight, more ruffled than he appeared outwardly. He smiled but it wasn’t a pleasant thing. “We always seem to meet like this – with a blade between us.”

Lexa’s sword was up, her dagger pulled in the other hand, both ready. She didn’t stop to engage the conversation, moving forward with blades swinging. Jaha simply backpedaled away, arms held behind him. She moved faster, her years of training exceeding his longer reach. His only move to counter was when her knife creased his chin, sending white hairs and a drop of blood falling toward the ground. A backhanded slap connected, near enough – turning Lexa’s head but not making her reel the way he might have hoped it would. This wasn’t the girl he’d met in her own dungeon, but _Heda –_ the Commander of the twelve clans and a warrior unrivaled anywhere. She grinned a bloody smile up at him, blackness between her teeth making him recoil. Her sword was at his neck in spite of the flinch.

Then she blinked and he was gone, her arm dropping without a neck to brace her blade against. Spinning, she directed her sword behind her, looking for the woman. There was no one. Not anywhere she could see. She was utterly alone in the City of Light.

The stories said that the people of all twelve clans came here when they passed but if anyone was here she couldn’t spot them. There was no time to look, not with Jaha on his way to kill Abby. She had to find a way back, and fast.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood left a black splatter on the concrete. Lexa ran the back of one hand across her mouth to clear her lips. Her glove came away with dark blood streaking the studs. It caught her eye, seeming to dance and shift under the sunlight. Lexa sheathed her blades with a frown, freeing her hands. The blood seemed to shimmer under the clean, bright daylight. Two bare fingertips swiped across the remnants of black blood on her glove. It felt like every other bit of blood she’d ever felt between her fingers.

For all that she’d spilled of her own and caused to spill from others, she’d never seen blood give off sparks.

Lexa leaned closer, drawing her hand to her face. Flashes of color jumped across her vision – red, brown, green, blue. More colors than she’d seen in this place. Colors that were everywhere – _should_ be everywhere. Rolling her tongue across her teeth, Lexa gathered another mouthful of blood. She didn’t spit it to the ground this time but into her hand.

More sparks danced and jumped, arching rainbows of color over her cupped palm. The other hand reached out, tentative and slow, until her fingertip reached the black blood. It still felt the same as every drop of blood she’d ever touched. Pressing her finger into the shallow blood, she never touched the palm of her glove. Instead there was the sensation of air moving.

Lexa nearly jerked back but caught herself, made herself lean into the experience. The moment stilled and stretched. She could feel herself – powerful and alive, straddling the realms of life and death, in two places at once and completely in control of both. All she need do was choose.

She shot up, gasping and with blood pounding, on her feet in her tent before she’d realized she’d moved. Her weapons and armor were exactly as they’d been a moment before on the concrete in the City of Light. Now though, her boots were planted on grass, an evening breeze waving the entrance flaps of her tent, carrying the scent of trees and life.

Two long strides and she was out in it, the camp active even in the middle of the night. “Heda.” Lexa returned the greetings with nods, moving toward her goal without pausing. Galahad greeted her from his roost with a raised head, waiting while she scribbled a message down, a hurried flap of his wings keeping his balance as he stepped onto her arm. Then he was off into the night and Lexa felt herself breathe.

 

 

* * *

 

Sitting across the room, Jaha seemed to _jerk_ in his seat. It wasn’t noticeable unless someone was watching him creepy close but it was there. And Abby Griffin _had_ been watching the former Chancellor creepy close for the last few days. Clarke had asked her to study the chemical makeup of those chips Jaha was peddling on the Grounder Commander’s behalf but she had her own reasons for watching the man himself after Jasper and Raven had both dosed themselves and appeared to have been replaced by drones.

The chips themselves were complex – science on a level she’d never seen on the ground, not even on the Ark – chemistry and technology working seamlessly to do… something.

Breaking down the chemical compounds had provided more questions than answers. The elements she could identify were powerful, each with their own strong effects. When combined, their results were strolling through the camp smiling like pod people with no pain. Raven walking around without her brace, serene and untouchable. Jasper camping in whatever corner he could find and laughing at things only he could see, stoned and beyond reach.

The effect was spreading, subtle in some cases but noticeable once she’d started watching for it. Jaha was at the center of it. Raven had told her very little during her exam, Jasper nothing at all, but Thelonius was where this thing had started and where it would end if Abby had anything to say about it. Clarke would have to be able to cope with whatever arose outside the walls. There was nothing she could do to help her from within but do exactly what she was doing.

Jaha rose from his seat with a too-long glance at the blank wall behind him, moving off into the milling populace of Arkadia. His height made him easy to track so Abby didn’t hurry to follow on his heels.

She’d only just turned the corner when Marcus barreled straight into her, in a rush and standing taller to try and spot someone over her head. They collided with huffs from either side, his hands catching her by the shoulders. “Marcus, I’ve got to -” Abby did her best to disengage, craning around him to try and track Jaha’s retreating back.

“Clarke -”

She froze, twisting her arms to grasp his forearms with both hands. Her grip was tight, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. “What? What’s wrong?”

He stepped closer, lowered his voice. “She’s on the radio. I don’t really understand how she got her information – something about the Commander and the City of Light – but she said that Jaha is going to try and kill you.”

Abby rocked back a half step, releasing her hold slightly without letting go of his arms. “Where’s the radio?”

Nodding, Kane led the way, his arm still in her grasp. He ushered her through several turns before pulling her into a dark storage unit that had been partially demolished in the Ark’s crash to the ground. The quarters were close, the space not lit. From somewhere beyond the broken wall came the smell of trees, the sound of wind moving outside.

Kane’s face was close when he turned to hand the radio to Abby from where he’d retrieved it. “Here.”

She dropped her eyes to the handset to check the frequency. “Clarke, come in.” The pause was brief but she wasn’t able to help herself. “Clarke!”

“ _Mom!”_ Clarke’s voice was hollow and tinny through the speaker but it was her daughter and she was alive and safe and it made some hard knot in Abby’s gut pull and relax ever so slightly. It wouldn’t disperse until Clarke was in front of her, in her arms. _“Are you okay?”_

Abby triggered the radio. “I’m fine. How are you? Where are you?”

“ _Mom, you’ve got to stay away from Jaha. He’s going to try to kill you -”_ She was interrupted by static. _“Mom?”_

“Clarke, I’ll keep an eye on him -”

“Don’t worry, Clarke,” Kane interjected. His jaw was tight beneath his shaggy beard. Two fingers scratched at the graying scruff. “I won’t let him anywhere near her.” He ignored the pointed look Abby shot up at him. “What makes you think he’s going to make a move now?”

The radio crackled again. _“Lex – the Commander. She warned me that you were in danger.”_

Abby caught Marcus’ eyes again, the exchange loaded in a different way. “Clarke -”

“ _I already know what you’re going to say. We can trust her.”_ She sighed, the sound heavy in a way that made Abby’s chest feel tight. The world – the ground – it had broken her baby in a way that she could never have imagined when they were in space. This was supposed to be their salvation, had saved their lives, in fact. At the cost of her daughter’s spirit, her soul. _“Mom, you have to trust me. Lexa is on our side. I can’t get into it right now, but you’re in danger. Jaha, the chips, it’s dangerous. You’re a threat to him because I asked you to look into it for Lexa.”_

Abby would have investigated the chips spreading through the camp regardless of what the Commander wanted. There was a note in Clarke’s voice though, something about the way she said the Commander’s name, that made her guts twist. Whatever had transpired in Polis in the last few weeks between the Ambassador and the Commander had clearly affected Clarke enough for her to forgive the woman who’d previously betrayed them all. There was nothing she could do about it, either. All she could do was trust her daughter.

“We’ll keep an eye on Jaha,” Abby promised. “How are you, Clarke? The Grounder prisoners? Everyone got away okay?”

She sighed again, the sound aching and deep. _“Octavia got shot, but -”_ She waited out her audience’s dismayed cries and demands for explanation and continued, _“But I got her stabilized. It was a through and through.”_ She breathed in and out while Abby questioned her about the girl’s status. _“I’m doing all I can from here, Mom. She’s alive and awake.”_

“Are you sure?”

“ _That’s all I am sure about. If you want to check Octavia yourself then we’ll have to get back into the camp. Until then you’ll just have to trust me,”_ Clarke said, impatient and short. _“The rest of the Grounder prisoners are back with their people. Lexa is making sure they get home safely. I did what I could for them before they left.”_

“Lincoln?” asked Kane, trying to give the two Griffins a break for at least a moment.

Clarke’s laugh, such as it was, was breathy and quiet. An owl hooted in the background. _“He hasn’t left Octavia’s side. And Ilsa stayed with us. Nyko wanted me to tell you thank you. For everything you did for them.”_

Abby’s smile up at Kane was tight. His smile was looser, something genuine beneath it. He didn’t give it voice, only let it linger on his mouth. “They’re welcome. If you see them again.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Is Lexa with you?” Clarke paused, the silence longer than needed to answer such a simple question. “Clarke -”

“ _She’s close. At the barricade. She arrived after Pike’s people started taking shots at the Grounders’ line.”_ Her voice was rough and Clarke cleared her throat. _“Once the shooting started she had to come.”_ There was more to it, Abby could hear it in her daughter’s voice, but she said nothing else.

“Are you somewhere safe?” asked Kane, watching Abby’s jaw tighten, her teeth clench.

“ _We’re safe enough,”_ Clarke said wearily. _“What have you found out about the chips? Anything?”_

Hesitating, Abby licked her lips. Static crackled through the line. “Raven took a chip, Clarke. And Jasper. It’s spreading more every day.”

“ _What’s going to happen to them?! What do the chips do?”_ Clarke demanded.

“It’s some kind of neural inhibitor from what I have been able to break down but there’s more to it than that and I haven’t had time to work it out.”

Clarke’s confusion was audible in her voice. _“Neural inhibitors? Like they’re altering brain chemistry?”_

“Brain chemistry, blocking pain, even erasing memories.”

“ _Is it permanent?”_

“I don’t know. There’s something else in there. Something I can’t identify. It’s not biological. It’s more like – tech. Like we had on the Ark. Nothing I’ve ever seen on the ground.” Abby’s breath was heavy. “I’m working on it, Clarke. I promise you. Do you have any insight from the Commander?”

“ _She’s got a connection she’s investigating.”_

“Then I’ll keep working in here.”

“ _Keep your head down,”_ Clarke reiterated urgently. _“Mom -”_

“I will,” she promised. “But I can’t stop working. People are being used, for whatever purpose Jaha has. You keep working on your side of things and I’ll do the same to figure this out and put an end to it.”

Clarke sighed, both of them perfectly aware that there was nothing else to say. Not over this radio. Not before they were face to face again. _“Stay alive. I love you.”_

Abby nearly choked on the words. “You too.” Kane took the radio from her gently and her hand twitched around the vacant space. She’d give anything to be able to close her grasp around Clarke’s hand, pull her daughter into her arms. Instead, she closed empty fingers into a fist.

Kane let her squeeze out first, then collided with her back when Abby didn’t get out of the doorway. Didn’t move or couldn’t he saw only after he’d knocked her into Bellamy Blake. Marcus was perhaps less gentle than he meant to be, reaching forward to pull her out of the young man’s hands. When she was pressed safely behind his side, he breathed again.

“What were the two of you doing in there?” asked Bellamy, hands up from catching Abby. He crossed his arms, frowning.

Recovering quicker than Marcus, Abby spoke up, “You might be a guard now, but we don’t owe you an explanation how we spend our free time.” His jaw went tight, hand gripping his gun more forcefully. “What makes you feel so threatened that you have to wear that inside the camp?” Abby asked, maintaining a light tone though force of will.

He shoved past the pair of them with a huff, pushing open the door of their hiding spot roughly. There was nothing but ruined supplies and crumpled walls. “You – the two of you – were just spending time in there?” asked Bellamy, sarcastic and doubtful.

Abby didn’t miss a beat, slipped an arm across Marcus’ middle, leaning into him. She only hoped his face would help sell the ruse instead of giving them away. “Surely you can think of _some_ reason for two people to be alone,” she suggested archly. Kane’s arm slung heavy around her shoulders.

Bellamy’s eyes went narrow and then wide as the implication reached him but he said nothing as he watched them turn and walk off, only poked his head into their closet once more, peering into the dark for a moment before he left the door behind to resume his route.

Kane risked a glance over his shoulder at the corner. “I think he bought it,” he whispered. “Quick thinking.”

Abby relaxed, head nodding. “Walk me back to the lab?” she asked. “We might as well make sure it sticks, right?”

“And if it means Jaha can’t catch you alone,” noted Marcus, nodding back. His arm slipped off her shoulders, the more populated quarters of camp too crowded to walk so close comfortably. Abby reached back to catch his hand instead without looking back.

Abby’s lab was relatively central and Marcus was surprised when she didn’t lead him inside. Instead, they passed through the camp toward the engineering workspace. It was crowded with bits of half assembled machinery and what looked like junk. Raven wasn’t there but she wasn’t who Abby was looking for. “Sinclair, what do you think of the City of Light?”

His eyes were covered with goggles while he leaned in to inspect the line of a weld still red hot but he stood up straight with a scowl. “Abby, what? The City of Light – the place Jaha has been proselytizing about? What about it?”

His confusion was audible in his voice and Abby breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally, a break.”

Pushing his goggles up, Sinclair looked past her at Kane. “What’s going on?”

“I think you can help me,” said Abby. “The chips Jaha is spreading – they’re not only chemical. There’s some kind of tech involved and I think you can help me figure out what it’s doing.”

His mouth pulled. “Raven would be -”

“Raven’s why we need to find a way to reverse the effects,” Kane interjected, his arms crossing his chest. “You know she took one. We need to get it out of her head. Will you help us? Pike already doesn’t trust us and Jaha would kill us if he knew. They can’t know what we’re doing. It’s dangerous to be seen with either of us.”

Sinclair didn’t hesitate. “Lead the way.”


	6. Chapter 6

Practice had made it feel simple, slipping between realms in between blinks of an eye. Lexa had learned that the reality of her ability was anything but simple. Death was a part of life, natural and inevitable. It was the way her people trained, a fact that every one of her subjects knew as well as they knew their own names. The Commander alone had a way out of the City of Light, any escape from the embrace of death. When Lexa fell her spirit would choose the next Commander and return to the living world once more.

_Death is not the end._ It was a phrase as common among her people as the Sky-People’s ‘may we meet again.’ The City of Light was where the dead were greeted when their time among the living was done. A new life in its own way, but entirely cut off from the life they’d had before. No one went back, only forward, and only in their time.

Whatever Jaha’s chips did, they were allowing people to straddle worlds, walk with a foot on either side of life and death. She couldn’t allow it. Death was for the dead, life for the living.

Opening her eyes to blank stone instead of the fabric wall of her tent was as much of a surprise each time as it had been that first time, no matter that the transition had gotten easier. Lexa no longer reached directly for her sword, at the least. There was nothing she feared here in the realm of the dead.

“Heda.” Anya stepped forward, clasping her arm in greeting. Instead, Lexa had found friends in the realm beyond life.

“Anya, you look well.” It earned her a rare smile from her former mentor, light hair falling in Anya’s face as she shook her head. “Lively.”

“Seems like someone thinks they’re funny all of a sudden,” observed Anya dryly, crossing her arms. One hip cocked, her posture relaxed. It was familiar enough to make something deep between Lexa’s ribs _ache_. “I assure you, you’re not.”

Lexa affected shock. “Only in death would someone dare to speak to their Heda in this way,” she declared.

“We both know that’s not the truth,” Anya laughed, smirking. Lexa smiled back. Few people had ever seen the Commander smile. More of them were now in the City of Light than were still on the side of the living but Anya had been one of the first.

As the moment of mirth ended Lexa squared her shoulders, hands drawn unconsciously behind her back. “Report?”

Responding instinctively to her Commander’s voice, Anya straightened her spine, subtly squared her shoulders. “I have seen Jaha and the woman myself but never her without him.” She scoffed. “He is incapable of telling an actually citizen of the City from one of the fools he feeds his chips to.”

Lexa breathed hard out through her nose. “You approached him yourself?” She couldn’t get near the Skaikru’s former Chancellor herself, not after their last encounter. Anya though, had never met Thelonious on the ground. If he’d not noticed that she wasn’t one of his people then it would seem that numbers were the goal of his game with the chips. He didn’t appear to need particular people, but just quantities of them.

The smirk that crossed Anya’s lips was quick, drawn back into a stern expression before a rebuke could cross Lexa’s tongue. “He is an idealist, Heda, not a fighter. And he has a strange connection to the City that I cannot understand, but this is not his place. Without the woman at his side I have the upper hand in any match.”

Lexa’s mouth pursed with the effort of biting back her words. “It was a foolish move.”

“It was exactly what you would have done if you were able,” Anya denied her. “This man thinks that he knows what this place is – thinks he has control – but he knows nothing. He sees nothing of what the City really is.” Lexa said nothing, waiting for her mentor to speak further. “The City gives those of us whose fight has ended peace. Those people who are brought here through the chips, they are not peaceful. Only empty. For the Sky Chancellor the dead are nothing. Those who are hollow are the ones he needs. But they exist only to be a -” she paused, struggling to find the word she wanted, “-a resource. Something to be used by the woman.”

“And her purpose?”

“I do not yet know, Heda.” Anya dropped her head in frustration. “But I will not fail you.” Her fist rose to pound her chest, emphasize her words.

“I have no doubts,” Lexa said quietly. She extended her arm, hand open. Anya gripped her forearm, returning the gesture. “Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim.”

Echoing her, Anya couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her mouth. She’d know Lexa longer than anyone else, knew her as well as anyone alive or dead. The young Commander had always set herself apart. The world was a hard place. Heda must be harder. Lexa had always been a fierce fighter. What had always made her special was her willingness to make peace. It had taken time, negotiation, and more than one physical reminder that she carried the Commander’s spirit inside her, to make the other tribes recognize the wisdom of Lexa’s vision of cooperation over conflict.

The entire time, Lexa had struggled alone. Then the sky had fallen to the Earth, delivering Clarke Griffin to the ground. The only person Anya had ever met whose vision and drive matched the ones Lexa had for her people.

“Is she worth all this? The sky girl?” asked Anya, familiarity and fondness for her former charge making her voice soften.

Green eyes blinked, her mind working behind them visibly. “I – I act for the sake of our people.”

“She’s yours.” Anya said it simply, as if it was not a complicated mess her Commander had found herself in for the sake of the girl from space.

Lexa felt her neck burn, the blush rising up to heat her face. Anya only shook her head. “Clarke – she’s -”

“I think I understand,” sighed Anya. “Just be careful.”

Thinking of Clarke, the thought of Anya’s tacit approval, a soft smile curled the corner of her mouth. “Mochof, Anya.” There was more she could say, wanted to say, but there was another voice filling her mind before she could find the words.

“ _Heda!”_ It was Indra, the sound of her title echoing and vast, as through coming from a great distance. From another world away.

Giving Anya a final nod, Lexa closed her eyes and concentrated. When she opened them again she was on the floor of her tent, her General’s hand on her shoulder. It was night and the absence of the bright light that filled the City made her head ache for a moment. “What is it?”

“Our guards have seen motion inside the blockade,” she answered. “Skaikru come through the trees. They’re moving on the line.”

Lexa’s first thought was of Clarke, living in the forest with Octavia and Lincoln. A single instant when she allowed her heart to clench inside her chest. Clarke was strong, was smart. They would meet again. Clarke Griffin’s fight was not finished this day. The next thought was of the defensive line of the blockade. Lexa’s hands were on her sword as she rose to her feet.

 

* * *

 

Static woke Clarke from her sleep, her mother’s voice a hissing whisper in the dark. Groggy, it took her a moment of fumbling to find the radio, to trigger the speaker. “Mom?” Their fire had burned down, glowing coals throwing heat without light. On the other side Ilsa and Octavia were stretched out, both asleep. Lincoln wasn’t in sight but Clarke knew without a doubt that he was close, watching. “Mom, are you there?”

The radio crackled again. _“Clarke, the chips, we cracked it.”_ The line went quiet, Clarke sitting up. Her blanket fell into her lap, night air sending a shiver across her shoulders. _“It’s an interface. Biological and technological, working together. The drugs shut off certain neural pathways, making it easy for the tech to do its job.”_

“Which is?” The chill she felt now had nothing to do with the cold night. This _thing_ was in Raven’s head, in Jasper’s. Numbing their senses and, from all accounts, controlling their actions.

“ _We haven’t worked that out, exactly. We only know what the people who’ve taken the chip are saying.”_

“Don’t take it,” said Clarke unnecessarily.

“ _Of course not. The City of Light -”_

“Here on the ground that’s the name for the afterlife.” Lexa’s last letter had mentioned that. As well as her girlfriend’s continuing efforts to explore the City herself. The whole thing made Clarke’s stomach clench and roll. “It’s a real enough place though. Lexa’s been there.” She didn’t correct herself to use Lexa’s title. “She’s seen Jaha there. And a woman in a red dress who can’t be killed.”

A pause stretched as Abby considered. _“_ _Raven and Thelonius both have someone they’re talking to. Someone the rest of us can’t see. They’ve been careful so far but they’ve each slipped. Whoever this woman is, I think she’s the key. How do you know she can’t be killed?”_

“Because Lexa tried to kill her. After she told Jaha to kill you. Lexa told me her sword went straight through the woman in red without touching her,” answered Clarke. An ember popped in the fire, burning logs shifting and falling, making sparks rise and fade into the dark. “She said Jaha called the woman Alie.”

“ _Okay, that’s good, Clarke. We can look for a name. If she was someone on the Ark maybe we can find her.”_

“Mom, I have to get inside the city. There’s nothing I can do from out here.”

“ _You can’t do anything hiding in here either.”_

The need to _do_ , to _act_ , to _help_ , and save her friends, burned through every cell in her body. Clarke couldn’t even stay still, rising to pace just inside the dim, flicking light of their dying fire. “Mom -”

Gunfire shattered the stillness, echoing through the forest. _“Clarke?! Are you okay?!”_

“Where is -?” Lincoln was there in the next breath, Octavia not quite steady on her feet but alert, her hands on her weapons, and Ilsa shook off sleep in a second, crouched low beside the fire with her knife in her fist. Clarke didn’t finish the question. She didn’t need to. The sustained sound of automatic rifles made it perfectly clear that Pike and his people, tired of weeks behind a blockade, were making their move against Trikru’s line.

Clarke felt something inside her chest twist, her fist tight around the radio. Lexa was at the line. In the path of Pike and his guns. But if the more radical elements of Arkadia were moving on the blockade then there was no better opportunity for her to get inside the camp’s walls. From her hand her mother’s panicked voice crackled. _“Clarke, Pike’s people are attacking the blockade. Some of them are in the woods. If they find you -”_

Lincoln was already stomping out the remaining embers of their fire, Octavia throwing everything she could reach into their bag, with Ilsa keeping a wary eye on the trees around them. The tight place in the middle of Clarke’s ribs stretched and grew taut without breaking. The sensation of being torn in half was nearly tangible. The twisting feeling was tight, like a band stretched to the very edge of snapping, blood rushing through her head. Bullets tore through the night, answering shouts from the Grounders at the blockade.

“I’ve got to get inside the camp,” gasped Clarke. She pushed the radio into Octavia’s hands. “You guys have to stay out of sight.”

The younger girl frowned, fumbling to keep from dropping the handset in the dirt. “Wha-no! You’re not going back there.”

Clarke shook her head urgently. “This is the only shot I’m going to have. I have to help my mom. Raven. She’s in trouble.”

“I’m going with you,” declared Octavia without hesitation. Her hand caught Lincoln against the ribs, gently stopping his step forward into the conversation. “You can’t,” she denied him without looking up at him. Her mouth was tight, clenching muscles jumping along the hinge of her jaw. “You know you can’t.” She caught Ilsa’s eyes before she looked up at Lincoln. “If we’re not with you, you wouldn’t be kept on this side of the blockade. The Commander would let you in. Right, Clarke?”

“She will,” Clarke confirmed, voice tight. The faintest smell of smoke was drifting on the night wind but she was too anxious to track its direction. “Go to Lexa.” Stepping up beside Octavia, her eyes were pleading. She couldn’t go to the woman she loved, couldn’t do anything to help her. If she went to the blockade things would be worse for the Commander. She needed to go where she could do something to help. Lincoln could go though, could fight at Lexa’s side, watch her back. Make sure she survived until the next time they met. “Please.”

Octavia looked between the two of them, breathing out when he nodded. “Here.” He caught her wrist, ignoring the radio for the moment it took him to haul her up against himself. Their kiss was brief, hard, and Clarke couldn’t watch it, vividly remembering the way Lexa’s kiss had made her knees go weak when she’d left her in the trees that night by the river. The words they’d said to each other – the truth that had grown and broken and been carefully rebuilt between them for so long – echoed through her mind, Lexa’s voice soft and so real that it was nearly present. As though she would find the Commander standing beside her if she only looked back for her. “Let’s go,” Octavia prompted a moment later, breathless.

“Gouthru klir, Wanheda,” Ilsa said, nodding and offering her arm to Clarke, who took it with her own firm nod.

“May we meet again, Ilsa.”

Then they were moving through the dark woods in opposite directions. Octavia was moving better but she couldn’t run, an arm over Clarke’s shoulders as they shuffled as quickly as they could between the trees. There was no stealth in one person supporting another, even with the slower pace. Luck was on their side though and only once did they have to draw up behind a tree to avoid an Arker crashing through the brush.

Octavia was sweating by the time they finally reached the wall. There was no moonlight to let Clarke see her friend’s face but she could hear her breathing hard as they worked together to lever open their access panel. “Go,” Octavia tried to tell her, jerking her head at the space.

Clarke didn’t move except to wedge her shoulder more solidly in place to hold the sheet of metal. “Get in there before you faint and I have to drag you.” Octavia lunged in as best she could her left leg stiff and pulled along with the rest of her. Clarke didn’t bother lowering the plate quietly. With the bullets flying outside no one would notice one more crash.

They were both drenched with sweat when they reached the far side of their tunnel. “Give me a minute,” panted Octavia, falling to her good knee and catching herself on both fists when she couldn’t keep her balance. When the panel two inches in front of her face moved, she jerked back with her hands already on her sword. There was no space to pull the blade though.

Light flooded through the compartment, Marcus Kane setting the metal aside with a grunt. Octavia slumped backward in relief, her head falling back against the wall behind her. “Your mom sent me to get you,” he said, reaching in to help Clarke out of the wall. “She said once the radio went silent she knew what you were going to do.” He helped Octavia out gingerly, clearly worried by the pallor of her skin and sweaty hair. “We need to get you to Dr. Griffin.”

Abby was waiting, curtains drawn around the farthest bed from the door. She jumped forward to help Clarke and Marcus with Octavia, guiding the young woman’s legs up onto the bed, a firm hand in her chest to keep the warrior girl from rising again. “Stay down and let me look at your leg,” she ordered briskly.

Clarke rounded the bed to Octavia’s other side. “Mom, we can’t -” Marcus left the curtain in favor of watching the door, leaving the Griffin women to talk.

Not looking up, Abby untied the shreds of Octavia’s pants to get a look at the wound on her thigh. “You can get Octavia some new pants while I work,” Abby told Clarke. “How badly does it still hurt?” It was clean, at the least, she could see. Clarke can been able to cauterize the wound but it would have been immensely painful. Octavia Blake wasn’t one to let anyone see her pain, however.

“I can walk on it.”

“She can’t really,” Clarke denied, narrowing her eyes at Octavia while Abby leaned in to inspect her work. “It was dark, in the open -” said Clarke to defend herself.

“It appears to be healing well,” declared Abby with a nod. “I’ll give you something mild for the pain if you can try and stay off it for a few weeks.”

Octavia grunted as she pushed herself up on her hands, pulling her legs over the bedside while she worked to pull clean pants up her legs. When Clarke moved to help Octavia swatted her away. “No promises, doc.”

Clarke followed her mother the few short steps to retrieve a bottle of pills from the cabinet, relived by the hard hug she was pulled into. “We can’t stay in the open,” she breathed against Abby’s shoulder.

She pulled back, both hands holding Clarke’s face while her eyes inspected her from head to toe. “You shouldn’t have come.” Her lips were warm where she kissed Clarke’s forehead.

“There’s nothing we could have done from out there. We had to come,” Clarke disagreed. “Where are we with getting those things out of people’s heads?” she continued without a pause so her mother couldn’t object again.

Abby sighed, head shaking from side to side. “Sinclair is doing the best he can. We really need Raven -”

“Then let’s get her back,” said Clarke, resolved. “You said the chip is tech and biology working together? So if the chip wasn’t inside their heads, or was neutralized somehow, would the effects wear off, or fade, or anything?”

Nodding, Abby crossed her arms as she considered. “It would take time, but yes, they should. Similar to an anti-depressant I’d say.”

Clarke’s posture mirrored her mother’s, arms laced and head nodding as she paced the short area while Abby dropped a few pills into Octavia’s hand. “Alright, so if we can get to Raven, knock her out, keep her under for long enough, she could wake up and be herself again?”

Abby hesitated, looking at Octavia’s brow furrowed with hurt she would never speak aloud. “It’s possible. The tech won’t deactivate just because the drugs wear off though,” she warned them. “And Jaha needs her to bring people around. It won’t be easy to get at her.”

Octavia groaned as she stood up, legs stiff, shoulders rounded, but jaw set. “Oh, we’ll get to her. If you or Kane or Sinclair can get her alone, we’ll take her out,” she promised, voice ragged and rough with pain.

“Sinclair may be able to -” Abby admitted reluctantly. “We’re going to need somewhere to keep you all out of sight. Somewhere they won’t find Raven -”

“I think I can probably find somewhere but it’s going to be cramped if we’re trying to hide them inside the main section of the city,” said Sinclair as he entered, his brows drawn down in worry that he wore nearly constantly judging by the lines on his face. “But we need to get them out of sight, fast.”

Octavia pushed herself forward with a grunt, keeping herself steady, arms out, while she tested how much weight her injured leg could hold. “Where’s Raven?”

“And do you maybe have an EMP?” asked Clarke, moving to help Octavia. It was a relief when the younger girl didn’t fight her but slipped an arm around her willingly enough. “I’ve got an idea, I think,” she said defensively when all three of the adults gave her the same look of concern.

Sinclair shrugged, his weight shifting from side to side between his feet. “There’s bits and pieces all over the lab but I’ll see what I can find.”

“Where’s Raven?” asked Octavia again impatiently. The hand not clenched around Clarke’s belt was gripping the handle of her sword tight enough to make her knuckles white.

“Wha-why?” Sinclair stammered, uncertain. “You aren’t -”

“We’re going to help her,” promised Clarke, injecting her voice with more confidence than she felt. They were certainly going to try. Do the best they could do and hope that whatever the damage done, Raven would survive it. “Do you have somewhere we can take her?”

Sinclair nodded slowly, eyes lingering on Octavia. “I think I may.” His shoulders rolled, his tension clear. “We should move.”

“When you find Raven this will keep her asleep.” She passed a capped syringe to Clarke, who tucked it into the pack on her back. “I don’t have much so don’t waste it.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Clarke’s eyes jumped straight to her mother’s, the two exchanging entire conversations through a look. “Be careful,” Abby told them both quietly, standing aside to let Clarke and Octavia maneuver past her. Her arms crossed her chest as she watched them limp toward the door.

The girls fell into a slow shuffle behind Sinclair and Kane, moving as fast as they could but much more slowly than preferred. Marcus moved ahead, looking around corners as they covered the halls of the previous space station. With the arrival of Farm Station there were more people moving around the camp, but nearly a month of living in the forest had left Clarke and Octavia rather obviously out of place inside the walls of Arkadia.

They were nearly to engineering, nearly safe and out of sight, two corners away and a hundred yards of hallway, when they nearly walked straight into Raven Reyes. Raven was speaking, her head turned to address the empty space beside her, and the sound of her voice echoed through the otherwise empty passage.

There was hardly time to position themselves, Octavia and Clarke throwing themselves against the wall to hide. Kane caught Sinclair with an arm across his chest, shaking his head when the scientist’s mouth fell open to protest. There was no guessing when they’d get another opportunity to get Raven alone.

Turning the corner, she was surprised to see Kane holding Sinclair flat against the wall but she had no time to express it before the base of Octavia’s sword caught the back of her head and sent her careening forward, not yet unconscious but destined to be there very soon. Sinclair jumped free of Kane’s hold to catch her, Clarke on the other side of Raven struggling to grip the back of her falling friend’s coat and steady Octavia.

The tableau was nearly comical, no one moving, with an unconscious girl slowly slipping to the floor in the center. Then footsteps approaching made them all move at once. Kane scooped Raven up carefully while Clarke pulled Octavia’s arm across her shoulder again. Rising to his feet, Kane gritted out, “We should really be moving now.”

Engineering was cluttered but Sinclair moved toward his goal without hesitation, kicking things away from a panel in the floor. It had been a hatch to a lower level on the Ark. Now that the space station was rather permanently grounded the ladder beneath the door didn’t go anywhere, ending four feet down in a crumple of metal into rich red dirt.

Octavia pulled away from the edge immediately, shaking her head. “No, no way. Are you kidding me with this shit?”

In Kane’s arms Raven, limp and unresisting, flopped her head against his chest with a sigh. “I’m sorry, but -”

“You’re about seventeen years too late for _sorry_ ,” she growled, shoving past him to climb into down the ladder. Clarke was quick behind her, both girls reaching to help receive Raven’s form.

Supremely guilty looking, Sinclair handed down a battery powered lantern. “Do you have food?”

Clarke nodded. “We’ll be alright for a while.” She clicked the lamp on. “I’ve got an idea about the drugs but can you work on an EMP or something to shut down whatever the tech inside the chip is?”

Sinclair licked his lips, moving restlessly. “I’ll try and come up with something.”

“Sorry about this. We’ll -” Kane tried to explain, to apologize. There was no time for either, and too little, too late for so much of it.

“Just close it,” ground out Octavia, the words dragged from between clenched teeth. “We’ve all got our jobs to do here.” Raven groaned and her grip tightened on her sword.

Clarke dropped to her knees, fingers finding the syringe her mother had given to her. She slipped the needle gingerly into bruised skin and pushed the plunger. Raven went limp again, soundless. The pulse under Raven’s jaw was steady. Relief made her shoulders slump, and she nodded up at the watching men above them. “You heard her,” she confirmed seriously, standing up again to cross her arms. “We’ll make this work.” The panel shut overhead with a solid sound. The light flickered but didn’t fade, leaving Clarke and Octavia looking at each other over Raven’s sleeping body.

“Nice speech and all, but what are we going to do?” asked Octavia.

Clarke sighed, pushing hair back and out of her face. “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.”


End file.
